The SPE
by Russet W
Summary: Louise's life didn't go how she expected. And when it comes to feelings, she doesn't deal. What happens when one person keeps forcing her to?
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I do not own Bob's Burgers or affiliated intellectual property, etcetera, et merde, and this applies to all subsequent chapters.

Prologue

My hair pins struggled against the sea breeze to keep control of my black locks. A beautiful sunset glowed over the bay while I stood on the wharf, listening to laughter, carnival games, and seagull calls. My sister's skirt flapped against my shins and I pulled my knitted cardigan closer as the sea breeze started to get chilly. I wished I could enjoy it instead of gripping the rail with white knuckles and a sense of dread. I was going on a blind date, at the urging of my best friend, my mother, my sister, her husband... basically everyone in my family except my father. He told me to do what I wanted, and if I didn't want to date a stranger then I should just stay home. Right now, I really wished I had listened to him instead of letting my best friend sign me up for online dating and convincing me to "be ballsy, Louise. Man up, Louise," and then shoving me into the unforgiving hands of my mother and sister for a first date make-over.

 _I'm going to slap him around a little tonight after I inevitably ditch this "Mr. WonderWharf" and go to the bar,_ I decided. _At least I can give him shit about his crush as retribution. Even if I am jealous and hate her._

 _No Louise,_ I thought. _Don't go there. Yes, you have feelings, but you know what we do with feelings? We slay them like dragons. It's what we've always done_. I remembered all my past successes with love and, well, the list was quite short. _Let him have his romance. It's not for you and after tonight, I'll just listen to Dad._ Besides, unless I can havewhat Mom and Dad have, I'm not interested in a relationship. I must be able to laugh and play and enjoy my partner. It's either someone who can be my best friend, or nothing. I was not about to compromise my life for less than that.

 _How did I let them con me into this? Was I drunk?_ I didn't recall being drunk when I agreed but given the ridiculous things I've agreed to with some tequila in me, it's not completely impossible I had made a promise to let them dress me up and put me on the meat market, or "Meet Market" as Tina said. I smiled a little at her pun despite myself. I love those nutballs in my family and I know they were just looking out for me.

The clock tower at the wharf struck seven thirty. The sun was barely holding itself above the horizon. It was officially time for my date with Mr. WonderWharf. I hoped he was as funny in real life as he was online. I hoped he wasn't a troll. I hoped I looked okay. I hoped he wouldn't try to kiss me on the first date. This was one of the few times in my life that I wished I had a religion. Maybe if I believed in a higher power I would feel better praying. As it was, I just dried my sweaty palms on my sweater and turned to face the entrance.

I scanned the face of each guy who looked to be in his thirties, making eye contact and searching for a hint of connection. Honestly, I felt ridiculous. This was such a bad idea. Minutes passed, nobody walking towards me. I checked my watch. Seven thirty-eight. _It's okay, Louise. He's running late. It's a Friday night in a beach town. There's traffic._

My pep talk did little to assuage the knots in my stomach and the heart in my throat. Sudden pounding footsteps on the wooden wharf to my left caused me to tear my eyes away from the entrance. A large man was barreling in my direction. He was easily forty-five, was wearing sandals with socks, and his stomach bulged over his pants, covering his belt buckle.

 _Well, he gets zero points for self-description,_ I thought to myself, disappointed. _Stop it. Don't be shallow._ And yet, I was. The man didn't slow down. _Is he going to run me over? Oh no, don't let him try to scoop me into a hug. Why did I write that I like surprises?_

He really didn't slow down, or even look like he saw me. I nearly jumped out of my skin as someone shoved me aside from behind and ran towards Socks Von Fatsandals. They embraced with a crash of laughter, so with profound relief and a small chuckle I looked back towards the entrance.

I blinked; Again and again, over and over. What I saw walking towards me couldn't be real. My heart began pounding and I could hardly breathe. It was Logan.

Logan, wearing my ears.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The very first time we met, I hated him. And for a long time, that didn't really change. Logan Barry Bush, named by idiots, first made himself my enemy by stealing my ears. We were walking home by the steps and he got all up in my face for just being a kid. Like I was going to let some teenage jerk tell me what to do? I barely listened to my parents; I wasn't about to take his crap. But then, quicker than I realized, he snatched my ears right off my head.

To say that I didn't take it well would be an understatement. In the end, I had some biker gang friends threaten his ears with a knife. The most elegant or rational response? Probably not. But nobody has ever accused Louise Beatrice Belcher of elegance or rationality. The previous days I had stalked him, following his every movement, and despite my better judgement I found myself admiring his style. He certainly didn't care what people thought about him, not really. He pretended to act all cool, but in reality, he actually just _was_ cool. He had a pet lizard named Godzilla. He had a pinball machine. He skateboarded. His parents didn't even care if he didn't come home for dinner, plus he didn't have a curfew! Nine-year-old me was impressed through my angry focus.

He returned my ears, of course. The biker threat accomplished that much. But this first meeting set the tone for the next twenty years of our relationship. In retrospect I realized that my biker friend Critter wasn't lying when he said that he wouldn't hurt Logan. And now that I'm older I'm glad he was so principled. At the time I thought he was just trying to cover his ass, sure that he actually would have hurt my bully. And if you had asked me back then if I wanted Logan hurt, the answer would have been an emphatic yes. It's best that the adults in my life knew how to deal with my specific brand of crazy. I was a vengeful little brat, that's for sure. And that didn't change for many years, either.

The second time I encountered Logan Bush, we were shanghaied into a mother bonding seminar by our overbearing moms. This time we, unfortunately, had to work together. It chafed me to have to give him props but he did have a few good ideas. It chafed even more to admit that my respect for his devious mind grew. My young brain didn't really find the whole "boy crush" thing acceptable, but had I known then what I know now, I would have been much more nervous at being locked in a closet with Logan. But, again, I was nine. At the time it was simply annoying.

We colluded to escape to the laser tag place next door. And the time we spent playing before it was crashed by our moms was the first hint of the type of friends we could be. Young as I was, I still knew that he was a good friend. I wasn't ready to let him, nor was he, but the potential was there. This was also the moment I learned his full name- Logan Barry Bush. The distinct joy I felt when I heard his full name called out still leaves a smile on my face. What were they thinking?!

The next time we spent any real time together was one of the worst times of my

childhood. Dad let Cynthia Bush, Logan's succubus of a mother, con him into hiring Logan to work at the restaurant for a plot in the community garden. Dad spent a blissful twelve days planting vegetables and herbs and tending the soil, then coming home and waxing eloquently about the smell of the dirt and the color of the stalks until we were all ready to lock him outside. The worst part was that while he was out with his plants, he let Logan sit around my family's restaurant and shoot the shit with his friends and claim he was so overworked while his mother pounded away on her laptop, taking up table space and doing her son's homework. Dad wasn't having to listen to Cynthia order cup after cup of hot water for her tea or watch Logan's version of "mopping" which consisted of him pushing dirty water around the floor because he lived with maids his whole life and never learned how to do anything for himself. Dad was elsewhere, leaving me to deal with the consequences. Then Tina tried to teach Logan the ropes while Gene began to look up to Logan as a teenage role-model, even though he feared him a little, and my safe place was turned upside down. My siblings were just letting this happen. The only solace in that insanity was my mother. She, too, hated the Bush family, making her the only acceptable family member to talk to.

Gene went so far as to say the most heinous thing I thought I could ever hear when this all happened. He said Logan and I would meet again in twenty years and get married. Later that night I attempted to smother him in his sleep, but Dad caught me. He warned me to back off the murder attempts or I would regret it. The pressure became too much; It took another desperate act from me to get things back to normal.

I think it was around this point that I began to associate desperate measures and huge overreactions with Logan. When he was in my life I just had to go big or go home when it came to making people hear me. I'm never going to say my parents were at fault for how I turned out because they did their best to rein me in. They had two other kids and a struggling business, and I am a handful, still to this day. I'm smart enough and self-aware to know that I started walking down that road of making mistakes about Logan when I fired him. He was so pissed- Cynthia too- that the moment was so juicy sweet for nine-year-old me. The satisfaction I felt was a rush I hadn't yet felt. So, from thereon in, I treated Logan pretty terribly. Even when I didn't _mean_ to, I somehow still treated him like crap.

For example, the next time we saw each other after I gleefully canned him from the

restaurant was what has come to be known as "the cantaloupe incident." Gene and I had been left home alone while Tina was in detention and Mom and Dad had to go to their accountant's. We found the motherload of all disgusting things- a rotten cantaloupe- in the fridge and what else were two kids supposed to do with something like that except toss it down onto the street? Unfortunately for us, and him, Logan was just cutting down the back alley.

SPLAT.

The carnage was glorious. For a brief moment I felt remorse, but again that look of shock, disgust, and rage on Logan's smug face sent me into uproarious laughter. And then when he began to really attempt to scare us, my damn pride took over. I couldn't apologize and admit I had done wrong. It was all his fault for cutting down the alley, I told myself. He had no business being there anyway. Damn my pride. It got me into many scrapes before and after this event. In the end, Logan did his thing and hunted us down as we tried to escape his, rather justifiable if I can say so now, wrath. Then Gene took the fall for me, proving himself both a great protector and of the strongest stomachs. Logan left my life, for the most part, for the next two years. We saw each other around but gave each other a wide berth. He avoided our restaurant. I avoided the high school and his house. Any other places were free zones and we didn't make eye contact if we saw each other.

That worked until I was eleven and the night of the fire.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

A faulty gas line on the restaurant stove caused the fire to become so strong so quickly, or so said the fire investigator. We had a history of problems with insurance claims, and fire, so the both the fire department and the insurance company did separate and intensive investigations. The gas line was weak and an automatic "safety" light turning on set both the spark and the fuel to nearly destroy our business and our home.

I had been asleep for several hours by the time I knew anything had happened. Apparently, my parents had called out to me to get up and leave the house. I was only partially awake and aware, so I sarcastically replied, "Okay, Dad, sure thing. On my way," before rolling over and going back to sleep. Smoke alarms were a long-faded memory in our house because we never replaced the batteries and Mr. Fischoeder, our landlord, never enforced their upkeep. So, my parents and siblings left the house in a rush, making sure to grab the important papers and Gene's not-so-secret cat, Steven, fully expecting their almost-eleven-year-old to get herself downstairs and to safety. But I was still asleep in my room, door locked to keep out my nosy mother, and unaware of the danger.

Tina told me that Mom began to panic once everyone was downstairs in the street and she did a head count. I wasn't there. They checked the alley while Gene called out to me over and over from the open front door. The fire truck blaring up alongside the house did nothing to stir me. I don't know if it was just my tendency to sleep like the dead, or if the carbon dioxide knocked me out, or what it was, but I didn't know anything until I was laying on a gurney in an ambulance, coughing up a lung with an oxygen mask over my mouth and nose. I sat up and saw someone else wrapped in a blanket sitting on the floor, feet hanging outside the back. I looked up to my house to see a soggy mess of twisted charred wood and smoke billowing into the night air. When I tried to ask what was going on, I found my throat was raw. The person on the back on the truck hopped off to move aside for the paramedics. My mom appeared and told me to not be scared, that they would follow in the car, and that she loved me. Dad said to be brave, and not to bite the doctors. The doors swung closed and my vision blurred. The world went dark again.

I opened my eyes again to a hospital room, while wearing a hospital gown, laying in a hospital bed. I had a cannula in my nose, an I.V. in my hand, and four family members snoozing in chairs around me. I tried to swallow to gauge my throat. It was sore, but not as bad as before. My dad sat in a chair, chin to chest, snoring softly. I noticed something in his hands- my old bunny ears, slightly singed on one ear and grey-tinged from smoke.

After a moment, Tina awoke and smiled at me sleepily. She rubbed her eyes, pushed

herself out of her chair and came over to sit on my bed with me. I scooted over a bit to give her room, and she climbed into the bed, putting her arm around my head and shoulders so that I could lean my head on her.

"What," she started, "did you think you were doing, you idiot?"

"Sleeping," I croaked, throat scratchy and dry. She smoothed my hair and I could hear her heave a huge sigh.

"Well next time, please don't go back to sleep. Who knows if Logan will be around to save you again?" With shock, I pulled away to look her in the face. She was serious.

"Logan?" My voice was getting stronger, a little. "Logan who?"

"Logan Barry Bush, your nemesis."

"Logan..." My brain was in overdrive to try to make sense of what Tina was saying.

"He saved you! He heard Gene and Mom and Dad and me calling for you from the sidewalk. He was walking down the street, coming from the wharf. Dad was about to push pass the firefighters and run back in for you when Logan jumped over the barricade and barreled up the stairs. Next thing we knew, we heard this huge boom and saw the kitchen collapse into the restaurant. Mom and Dad were screaming and crying; the firefighters were shouting for us to get back. Then we heard some banging sounds and about a minute or two later, Logan comes out the door with you in his arms and your ears in his hand. His shirt was burning, but I think they got it put out before he was hurt. He gave you to dad and fell onto the street, coughing."

I listened to my sister tell a story that, if I weren't in a hospital bed, I would think was one of her fictions. Then the figure I saw sitting by me in the ambulance wrapped in the blanket popped into my head. That hair would have been blond if it wasn't full of soot and ash. Tina was telling the truth. Logan Bush saved my life.

My silence went on for so long that Tina stood up just to check to see if I was still awake.

I was just too speechless to come up with any sort of reply. "Louise..." she asked. "Do you need me to call the nurse? I have the button right here." I slowly shook my head. I met her eyes with my own. She had unshed tears threatening to spill onto her cheeks and worry etched in every line of her face. I gave a small smile before curling back into my bed and hiding my face in my pillow.

The next few days were a blur of doctors and treatment for my lungs and my parents coming and going. They say it was a miracle I had no burns, only smoke inhalation. Tina never left my side, at all. Gene only left a time or two- "to give us girl time," he claimed but I'm pretty sure it was music related. He had started a band the year before and his, now full-sized, keyboard was lost in the inferno that was our house. He was likely meeting with his band mates to discuss what to do about it. Mom and Dad didn't want to leave either, but they had to meet with insurance people and the landlord and who knows who else? They whole apartment was gone, Mom said. Tina told me it was more than that- the restaurant was half-burned too.

I didn't see Logan during all this. I wanted to see him, to thank him at least, but he never came around. Gene said he talked to Mom and Dad, shook hands, and didn't come back. Mom and Dad kept saying his name reverently, as if he walked on water or something. I mean... I wanted to thank him and everything, but I wasn't going to forget that he was a douchebag. If you asked my parents, Logan Barry Bush was an angel sent from heaven. All past sins forgiven.

It was bullshit. The whole of my world was so messed up now and I couldn't do anything about it. I hated feeling helpless, almost more than I hated the idea of Logan in my bedroom, Logan holding me in his arms, Logan touching my bunny ears. Because he had to have seen them on my bedpost. I never wore them anymore; I kept them in my room, on my bedpost, as a living memory of my past. Logan likely hadn't seen me in so long he didn't know I stopped wearing them every day, so he grabbed them when he rescued me. It was sweet, if I let myself admit it. I was also grateful, not that I would tell anyone that. Everything else was gone. All gone. The furniture, the pictures, my stuff, my sister's journals and books, Gene's music... it was all gone, but for my ears. It was almost stupid, the relief I felt for that gesture. Not only did he walk into fire for me, saved my life... but he saved my ears.

I never told anyone this but, one night there in the hospital while Tina was asleep in those

awful ugly chairs and Mom and Dad were out with Teddy looking for a place for us to stay and Gene was with his band, I cried. I cried for what we lost, I cried out of fear of what could have happened to me, and I cried with relief that things worked out like this. I cried because I was thankful for Logan being in the right place at the right time. As hard as it is for me to admit it still, I needed him in that moment.

I found out later that Mom and Dad wrote Logan glowing college recommendations. I mean, these letters were college admissions golden tickets. He would be able to beat out God for a spot at any school with those kinds of praise. I read a copy of one of them that Tina found. Mom made like, a dozen copies for Logan to send with all his applications and there were some he didn't need. I folded the letter and shoved it in between the pages of a comic book my dad brought me.

A little past a year after the fire, while we were living in this shitty tin box trailer just a couple spaces away from Zeke when our building was going through renovation and rebuilding, the bottom fell out of the world again. And it was all Logan's fault.


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Mr. Fischoeder wanted to retire. He was already about a hundred and forty-five years old, so it was no real surprise. The surprise was how he started to go about it. He hired a young "go-getter" home for the summer from college- Logan Barry Bush. And Logan, Mr. Fix-it, encouraged Mr. Fischoeder to sell off some assets so he can really enjoy retirement in style. He started by selling the baseball team- the WonderWharf WonderDogs. He sold them to Felix, who figured out that investing his money was better than using it to have money fights and was back in the black.

The next thing to go up for sale was the yacht club. Apparently, Mr. Fischoeder had sank all his boats (there were several) so going to the club was just too depressing for him. Some club member bought it, strengthened the membership requirements, and now only about 40 people in the area could get in. Jimmy Pesto was not one of them; my father thought that was a hilarious karmic conclusion. It's not like we would have been eligible even if we won the lottery, so I didn't pay much attention at the time. But the next thing he sold signaled the end of my childhood.

He started selling off his individual land holdings, like tenements and business fronts.

First Jimmy Pesto bought his building. Then the old couple, Edith and Harold, who were somehow still alive, bought theirs. The stationary store, the fancy grocer, Fig Jam, the locksmith, the liquor store, Sal's sex shop... one by one they bought their buildings. Even Reggie bought the store his deli was in. Even Mort! They were all able to buy their stores. Then one day as we were restocking the restaurant after it the remodel was finally done, Mr. Fischoeder sent in his goon.

I was sitting in a booth, wiping down the menus, filling the salt and pepper shakers, marrying ketchups, basically just doing the regular side-work that was always my job to do, when the bell on the door jingled. A tall young man in nice slacks and a button down walked in. It took me a moment to recognize my old enemy in this young adult man. His hair was combed, and he had facial hair- just two- or three-day scruff- but it made a real difference.

"Well look what the stupid cat dragged in. I knew I hated cats for a reason," I said as I met his eyes. They were green, I noticed for the first time. His smile was one-sided, and he raised an eyebrow.

"I don't recall ever hearing 'Thank you for saving my life, Logan. You're truly a superhero to me.'" His smirk broadened into a true smile as he posed like Superman.

"I figured after my parents wrote you that recommendation letter, your ego

couldn't take any more stroking. You wouldn't fit into any of your hats. That would have been a real tragedy," I snapped. His smile went from posed to real.

"Oh, you read that? Yeah, Bob and Linda really love me now. That letter got me accepted to five different colleges. It also really helped with the la-dies." He strung out the word like he thought he was a player or something. I noticed my stomach did a small flip-flop. I really hated the thought of Logan scoring with girls because he saved me. It felt... wrong somehow. I shoved the feeling down and stomped on it with vigor before my face could do so much as flinch, though.

"Don't be gross Logan. Why are you here? What do you want? Nothing is on fire now. No chance of being a hero today." I went back to measuring out pepper into the shaker in my hand.

"Au contraire, mon frère," he quipped. "I am here to offer your family a great chance to get out of the shadow of a landlord and be independent. I'm here to offer you to buy out your lease." He went from being annoying to being smug and annoying.

"That's YOU? You're the one who convinced Fischoeder to sell off his buildings?" My body went as cold as my voice. I dropped the pepper and the shaker on the table. Small glass shakers went rolling all over the table, sprinkling spice everywhere. Some even fell to the floor and broke. I slammed my hands on the table as I stood up. I walked slowly towards Logan, my full five feet staring up into face. He started to lose the shit-eating, self-satisfied grin and realized I was angry.

"DAAAAAD!" I shrieked. Logan visibly flinched. My dad came stumbling up the basement stairs and burst out of the kitchen.

"Louise! What is it? What's wrong? Oh, hello Logan. Can I help you?" Dad went from freaked out to gracious host in point five seconds flat. Of course- he still loved Logan. Logan saved his child. Logan could do no wrong. Well I was about to burst that bubble.

"Logan is trying to sell us the building, Dad," I declared, eyes never leaving Logan's face. My dad was quiet for a moment or two. You could feel the air in the room take on a different tone.

"Oh, we've been expecting this. Logan we _just_ finished the rebuild. The apartment isn't even done yet, but we had them finish the restaurant first, so we could get back to work. Our savings are gone; we're tapped. Insurance only covered part of it. It'll be another week or two before we can move back in upstairs. We would never be able to afford to buy the building. Fischoeder will just have to keep it." Dad crossed his arms. He spoke politely, almost apologetically, to Logan. I guessed he didn't want to be rude to Logan, savior of the youngest Belcher child, hero of the century. I shouldn't have been surprised. I would just have to do it for him.

"So, get your ass out, Bush. Nothing for you today." I stoop my ground in front of him. Logan suddenly seemed very uncomfortable. He bit his lip, heaved a huge sigh, and looked down at his shoes.

"Jeeze, Bob. Are you sure there is nothing you can do? Mr. Fischoeder really wants to sell. If you don't buy out, he'll find someone else." He looked like he felt like a creep. I was glad he felt that way- about time he realized his potential for being a jerk. But what he said next made me realize what Fischoeder selling really meant. "If he sells to someone else, you'll lose your lease."

"Can't you talk him out of it, Logan? Please? I know I already owe you, but isn't there anything you can do, for me, for us?" My dad begged Logan to help us. I felt ashamed for him. How could he grovel to the dick who was telling us we would get evicted and be homeless?

"Bob, I... I mean... I'm the one who convinced Fischoeder he should sell in the first place. I don't think I can get him to change his mind. He's really excited to get out of the landlord game and enjoy his retirement. I'm so sorry, Bob. I didn't think you guys wouldn't buy." Logan looked pained, as if he were twelve kinds of embarrassed. I hoped he was. He should be ashamed of himself, telling the richest guy in town to be even more selfish.

"We'll find something. We'll figure it out, I'm sure. Thanks Logan. I hope you enjoy your summer. Don't be a stranger and good luck at Princeton," my dad temporized. It was enough to assuage Logan, who sheepishly smiled and quickly backed out of the restaurant. He had left the lease agreement on the counter. My dad picked it up and went back to the basement where my mother was putting away the dry goods, unaware of the nightmare brewing upstairs. No matter what hopeful words my dad parroted to Logan, I knew the truth. There was no chance we could buy this building now. Even before the fire, we only had a little savings, not a couple hundred thousand or however much it cost to buy a building like this. I never checked the paperwork to know the price. It didn't matter. We were scraping by.

My grandparents had sent us a little money from Florida, a few thousand so that we could keep some food in the fridge. Tina gave up any hope of getting a car, not that she had much to begin with. Gene took on an extra job at the Wharf with Mickey, running rides for some cash to replace his keyboard. The thing about insurance is that it's supposed to pay to replace all your things, to fix your damaged house, to take care of expenses while you're displaced into a trailer park. But to have insurance that will do all that, you must continue to pay the company, and it turns out we were behind. So, insurance wasn't going to do everything we needed it to do, and we had to drain the family savings to bridge the gap. Even I understood that, and I was the youngest of the family, the one nobody talked about money to.

However, when envelopes with checks from your grandparents come every month from Florida, and when your dad's father, who you see maybe once or twice a year, suddenly starts dropping by more frequently, you start to sniff out the conspiracy. My parents needed money and we were about broke. That's why we rushed the restaurant's remodel. We needed money, like NOW. There was no way in hell we could buy a breadbox, let alone a whole building.

About a month later, after tip-toeing around my family and wracking my brain for a solution, after listening to Mom and Dad stay up late and crunch numbers, and listening to Tina cry in her bed, after realizing that we would lose the business and our home in one fell swoop... after all that, we had a miracle. Mr. Fischoeder dropped off a new contract. Our rent was dropping. Our rent was dropping, and the lease was being extended to a five-year contract, with a locked-in rate. Mom and Dad spent the night drinking wine and celebrating. Tina and her steady boyfriend (for once) Jimmy Jr. went out to dinner and stayed out all night. I wasn't about to lecture my sixteen-year-old sister on proper behavior when I took her absence as an opportunity to read her diary. (Again.)

I don't know what caused Mr. Fischoeder's change of heart, but I knew who had nothing to do with it- Logan.


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Logan didn't rear his hideous blonde head around the restaurant for almost two years. I liked to think it

was shame, but in reality, it was likely school that kept him busy. School and his summer job with Fischoeder, running what was left of his businesses for him while he enjoyed retirement on his estate. I spent the time growing up. To piss off my mother, I had a friend of a friend (someone Mickey knew) pierce my nose. I grew another few inches. "Becoming a woman" as my mother called it, changed me from a scrawny kid to a "young lady." Tina showed me how to deal with bras. Mom showed me how to shave my legs, to my never-ending embarrassment, and then she sang a song about it and made me a cake. She also cried because her last baby was a baby no longer. Gene was miffed over the whole affair since he didn't get a cake when his voice changed. So, then we had another cake and another song.

I stopped wearing dresses and switched to leggings and jeans so that I could enjoy my curves, just a little. For the first time, I started to feel a little grown up and not like the baby of the family anymore. Switching to pants also gave me a great excuse to cover my legs because despite knowing how to shave, I saw little need for it and fulfilled my promise to grow out my hairs all long and scraggly. Mom would make a face when she saw my legs; wearing pants was just easier.

Tina graduated from Huxley High in May of that year. Gene went from chubby sophomore to slightly taller but still chubby junior. I got ready to leave all vestiges of childhood behind as I left the eighth grade and moved to Huxley, the last of the Belchers to switch. The best of the Belchers, in my humble opinion. Frond surprised no one when he retired that same year. Getting me to high school was his "magnum opus, his Everest," as he claimed. I took pride in knowing that I could save the kids after me from his specific brand of cuckoo. Aunt Gayle had long since dumped him, so he was officially out of my life, for good.

Hudson University in New York was Tina's destination. She got a full scholarship for her work on the school paper and now her major in journalism in the biggest, fastest news hub in the world was the path set before her feet. I would be lying if I said I was one hundred percent okay with her leaving. It meant I got a larger room all to myself. It meant that there was more hot water for everyone and that we wouldn't have to hear her talking in her sleep through the walls at night. But it meant my big sister was leaving and I wouldn't get to see her every day. She left early to spend her summer in the city, working as a coffee girl for the New York Post so we didn't even get to see her much after graduation.

Nobody felt the loss more than my father. She was his grill buddy, his assistant chef. It was really hard there for a few weeks until, at the height of summer, just after my fourteenth birthday and mere days after Mickey's friend 'Needles" pierced my nose, that Dad hired help for the kitchen. He said he still couldn't trust me or Gene on the grill, despite both of us being years older than Tina was when she started burger flipping. While we had lived in the trailer post-fire, Dad took to cooking burgers at least twice a week on an old grill that Teddy found for us and fixed up. The whole trailer park started looking forward to burger nights and we supplemented our income a little by selling burgers to our neighbors. We kept it very hush-hush because one never knows when Hugo would show up, Ron in tow. One of our neighbors was Zeke, Tina's friend, and after teaching Home-Ec my dad thought Zeke had a real talent for cooking. Zeke started helping out Dad on burger nights.

Then, suddenly, Zeke was working in the restaurant to fill in the gap left by Tina. It wasn't too weird, actually, even though I truly expected it to be. Tina was a five-foot-seven, bespectacled girl with a penchant for day-dreaming and a soul for gossip. Zeke was a six-foot linebacker who barely seemed to fit through doorways and who, after growing out of his habit of rambling, became the strong, silent type. He only really spoke when spoken to. But I wasn't going to complain. The most onerous of tasks, like hauling deliveries and the like, became Zeke jobs. He was so good that Dad actually let him... man it's weird to say... change the menu. I love my father to death, and he would kill me if he heard me say it, but he turned out a lot like Grandpa Bob. His menu was his and his alone to fuck with. Burgers was the game. But Zeke convinced Dad to first let him create some burgers of the day, then to play with proteins. He added chicken, then pork, then eggplant and mushroom. Soon there were things on the menu that weren't served on a bun. And after that, he even convinced Dad to take one day a week off. Because of this, Mom decided to nominate Zeke for sainthood. They were able to take date night from once a quarter to once a week.

We started turning regular profit. I know it helped that rent was predictable, but we had Zeke on salary now and we still made money? Something was different. Maybe it was that Gene and I had grown up and stopped screwing around all the time. Maybe it was that during the remodel the whole restaurant got new equipment and a facelift. But I think it was Zeke. A second brain in the kitchen was what really kicked us into overdrive. Dad was suddenly in competition mode to prove himself. Which pushed Zeke to be extra creative too. They had days where there were two burger specials, one Dad's and one Zeke's, and they counted which was picked more. Loser bought the winner a beer at a bar that opened-up next door. It didn't matter that Zeke wasn't 21. Dad said he was a man, and a man deserved a beer after work.

There was money to take a day off occasionally. There was money to pay back my grandparents. Gene was given a really expensive and fancy keyboard for his sixteenth birthday. Dad bought me a deluxe box set of the Hawk and Chick films on DVD for my fourteenth birthday, despite the new hole in my face, he said (I went to Needles the night before, just to be a brat and get a rise from my Mom when she bust into my room the morning of my birthday like she did every year.)

Since there was money in the bank and a dependable chef, Mom and Dad were out on a date the next

time I saw Logan. I was helping Zeke close the shop around 10:30 when Logan came stumbling through the door. I was busy bussing tables and pocketing my tips when I turned around to face him. "We're closed-" I started to say but stopped when I saw who it was.

"Oh, it's you. What do you want Logan Bush?"

"You."

My head snapped around so hard that my ponytail slapped me in the face. "Excuse me?!" I demanded, voice shrill. Yes, I had realized that even though they were by and large the inferior sex when it came to brains and ability, boys did occasionally turn my eye. And Logan was an exceptionally good-looking guy. So, when he said that, my heart skipped a beat or five and my breath caught in my chest. Then I saw he wasn't alone and for an even briefer moment I freaked out about all that implied.

"Do you still pick locks, Louise?" Logan was drunk, and his date was even worse. I was impressed at her ability to stand like that. The question threw me for a loop. I shook my head to clear it and opened my mouth to reply when his sloppy lush of a date started whining.

"Loooooh-gan! Why are we here talking to this little girl?" Her voice was nasal and irritated me. He words irritated me more. "I wanna go back to your place," her voice dropped to lower register and she practically purred in his ear, "and take all your clothes off." I felt my ears and face turn pink. Being my parents' daughter, I was no stranger to sex and what people did when they were attracted to each other. Tina was my sister after all! I spent years reading her diary, her stories. That girl had some obsessions and sex was one of them, especially after she and Jimmy Jr... But something about how this skank pawed at him and his sly smile got under my skin, though. I felt acutely uncomfortable being in the same space as them.

"I'm not a kid. I'm just short." I snapped back. It was true. I never grew over five foot three. I was also wearing my apron which covered my chest, so I looked several years younger than my fourteen years. I stood up straight and looked Logan fiercely in the eyes. "Yes, I still pick locks. Why? Doesn't look like she has a chastity belt." I gestured to his date with my dishrag, flicking a tiny few droplets of dirty water her way. She was too toasted to even notice.

His glare was poisonous. "I locked my keys in my car, dipshit. Can you help me out? I need to get back home and, uh," he gave me that cocky smile again, "it's kinda urgent." He titled his head to the side to indicate his date. I rolled my eyes. I was unbelievably angry, yet at the same time impressed by his gall, to come to me to ask for a favor for something like this.

"What's in it for me?" I cocked my own eyebrow and stared him down. I wasn't about to do this on credit.

"Well, you kinda owe me, don't you?" He put his hands in his pockets and raised his chin. I had never seen him so obnoxiously arrogant. He whispered loudly, as if he wanted to draw attention to the words, "I saved your life. Walked through fire and everything."

"You got your letter. You're a big shot and the world knows it." I would let hell freeze over before I did this without some sort of payment. He would hit me with a low-ball offer of five bucks, I knew it. I would hold out for at least forty.

He pulled out his wallet and peered into it. He looked up at me, back at the bills I could see sitting there and then he bit his bottom lip. I hated the way it made my heart flutter, so I pinched my leg with force enough to bruise and just gave him glare-for-glare.

"One hundred dollars." He pulled out a couple of bills. The outer was a fifty. I reached out for them, no hesitation. He snatched it up, far above where I could reach. Damn his height! "To be paid upon completion of the job." I sighed and resigned myself to this.

"Fine. Let me go get my kit."

Fifteen minutes and some creative swearing later, his car door was open, and I was walking back across the street to the restaurant. They had been at the bar next door, called Swanky Panky's, and that's why Logan came to me rather than wait for roadside assistance. I was faster, and it was "urgent." As I pulled the door open to get back to cleaning, I flipped through the cash with a smile.

The money stopped me in my tracks. There was one fifty-dollar bill, two, three... In total the bastard gave me three hundred dollars for a few minutes of easy work. I think I had even tried to scratch up the paint job on his vintage trans-am (because really? Could he be more of a stereotype?) And he gave me three times what he said he would.

For what was perhaps the first time in my whole life, the frost was starting to thaw. I actually began to like Logan Barry Bush, just a little.


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"She did it, Mom! She dumped his ass! Fuck yeah!" I waved my cell phone high in the air over my head as I ran into the restaurant where my mother stood working the counter.

"Language!" My mother sang at me, like she had been doing since I was four and I said dammit for the first time. You would think eleven years of listening to me swear would be enough for her to get used to it. "Who dumped who? What are you talking about, Louise?"

"Tina, Mom. She finally dumped Jimmy Jr.! After all these years, she kicked him to the curb." I scanned through my texts to show her the proof. "Look. She said she's had enough of his waffling and his flakiness. I don't quite know what she means by 'he's sexually ill-equipped' but it doesn't matter. He's finally gone."

"Ha!" A harmony of barking laughs rang out from the kitchen. Both Dad and Zeke seemed to find this news pleasing. Dad stuck his head though the order window. "So, my Tina has finally seen the light? She's done with the Pesto kid?" Dad started whistling as he stuck baskets of fries into the oil.

Zeke came around to the front, and in a rare moment of garrulousness, began to chatter like a monkey. "T bird flew away from at last, huh? I love Jimmy like a brother, but he's never been good enough for your sister. I mean she can write and dance and she's so creative and she can cook. J. Ju is a nice guy, but he can't commit to a favorite color let alone a girl. Well... I wonder what made her see the light." He wiped his hands on his dish towel and walked back to the kitchen with a glint in eye.

Mom and I exchanged a look. She smiled a little and went back to counting the money in the cash register. I wasn't about to say anything, but I had an excellent idea why Jimmy got dumped. Twice a week, Tuesdays and Fridays, a letter addressed to Zeke from New York arrived in the mail. And twice, Wednesdays and Saturdays, a letter addressed to a "Miss B" in New York went out.

Six weeks later, Tina came home to visit, but she didn't stay with us. She stayed with Zeke. Nobody said anything to either of them, in an unusual and unspoken Belcher family pact.

My dad has always been notoriously difficult to shop for and I have always been even worse at picking out gifts. So, after some brainstorming with my two best friends, Andy and Ollie, I was able to think about what my dad has always wanted most. He wanted a garden. And the only place in town where he could get land to garden lay in the hands of one Mrs. Cynthia Bush.

"Whyyyyyyyyyy?" I groaned to myself as I stood at the front door of Logan's childhood home. I steeled myself and rang the doorbell. The chimes could be heard on the porch. They sounded like money. Of all the things he loved best in the world, why did my dad have to love to garden?

Cynthia came to the door and took one look at me, then closed it again. I smiled despite myself. I probably would have done the same were our roles reversed. I rang the bell again.

It took over a month of balancing school, work, and every shitty, demeaning, menial task that the recently divorced and incredibly bitter Cynthia Bush could throw at me, but it was worth it to hand my dad a beautiful envelope on his birthday.

He opened the flap carefully and drew out the papers, confusion etched in every line of face. His eyes scanned the top letter quickly. When he got to about the middle of the page his eyes lit up and he flipped to the second sheet of paper. It was a certificate of ownership for a large corner plot in the community garden. "Bob Belcher," written in fancy calligraphy that I watched Cynthia do myself, sat on the line where it said owner.

"Bobby! Look at that! Your own garden like you always wanted!" Mom started dancing and singing. "Bobby, bobby, very wobbly, how does your garden grow..." Tina and Gene started peppering me with questions about how I did that and how I convinced Cynthia and how much it cost. I just met my dad's eyes and gave him a big smile. He returned it, with tears in his eyes. Worth every penny.

After the festivities died down, Mom and Dad retired to their room, Gene went to practice with his band instead of writing his lit. paper, and Zeke and Tina went back to Zeke's apartment to do whatever it was that they did at night. I wasn't about to probe too deeply given the way they looked at each other. Made me queasy just thinking about it. My sister was a freak. I love her to death and back but she's a freak and Zeke... I didn't want to fall down that rabbit hole. She could climb him like a tree. And I bet she did. I cleaned the living-room, did the dishes and went back to my room to enjoy my new book.

By "my new book," of course, I was talking about a delightful little read I pocketed from Cynthia's house- from Logan's room, to be exact. I couldn't help myself. The title was just too enticing; it popped into my pocket without me even realizing it: "Journal."Apparently, Logan and my sister had plenty in common, including writing down their every thought in books. The time covered in this particular volume were his last two years of high school and first two years of college. I had just began delving into the mind of Logan the year we met. He mentioned me, not by name of course. He didn't use names but initials. Unfortunately, he also obfuscated things by referring to himself by his initials too. And his initials were L. B. B.

My name is Louise Beatrice Belcher. Sometimes things got very confusing. I don't know how he learned my middle name. That's normally kept so secret that I'm pretty sure my grandparents don't even know. Perhaps he just knew the letter. Reading his scrawl was often like deciphering code. He did admit to liking my ears- I could figure out that much. He also called me a tiny nightmare. I liked that so much I considered getting it tattooed down my forearm. There was a lot of really personal stuff in there about girls and his friends and his parents. He knew, even back then, that his parents were due to fail. I could have told him that, but I would never have expected Logan to be as perceptive as that.

Towards the end of his junior year of high school I hit pay dirt. He wrote about an incident that no guy would want his enemy to know. I smiled to myself, storing away this knowledge until such time as it will do me the most good. Meaning, of course, that the time will also cause Logan the most humiliation. Because, after all, isn't that the point of all of it?

Three days later, I got my chance.


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

I was doing my best to be the adorable scamp that I was by ditching my health class. The teacher was a coach who looked like she had as much sex as the average Franciscan friar. It was a sunny Friday at the end of the school year. Staying inside and watching Coach Krepsky push play on the VCR to show an antiquated film on STDs and the modern teenager would have been a crime against life. Those videos really needed an update. They still assumed the modern teenager had a pager and a Walkman.

I went down to the pier and watched the seagulls dive bomb the shore below where people threw their food and disgusting bits of... who knows what... washed ashore. People liked to throw French fries into the air and watch the gulls catch them. When I was younger I did that too, until a seagull snatched Tina's glasses off her face. It took two days of checking seagull nests and crawling though literal feet of seagull shit to get them back and by that point, none of us thought it was worth it anymore. I was trying to decide if I was going to waste the ten bucks in my pocket on riding the Zany Plane until I was sick or buying cheap saltwater taffy until I was sick when a voice caught my ear.

"And this is the wharf! We still pull in a good profit from here, year after year. Mr. Fischoeder said that he would never sell WonderWharf and he's been true to his word. Most attendants are parents with young children, the elderly, and... well see here..." Logan, leading a group of men in suits who seemed all numbers and no fun, gestured towards me when he saw me standing there. "Teenage delinquents! Well, their money is just as green and since they don't know better they may as well spend it here." The group laughed at my expense and started taking photos of the wharf with their fancy phones. My ears turned red with shame.

Those words couldn't have hit any harder than if he physically smacked me in the face. I knew he looked down on me but to say something like that in front of all those people- it stung. I thought we were at least going to be a little friendly. After all, he gave me all that money...

But he had been drunk. Maybe he didn't realize what he had done. And a guy like Logan can probably spend that much without missing it. Perhaps we weren't friendly. Well in that case I had a weapon in my arsenal he wouldn't see coming.

"Hey Logan!" I walked up to him and glared up into his stupid face. All his business-suit friends were looking at me. "Aren't you going to tell these guys about your class trip in high school?"

"What?" Logan gave me a look like I had lost my mind.

"In high school. You had a trip to Bog Harbor with your history class to see the light house." Logan's face flinched. I could tell the suits were trying to figure out what this had to do with anything and who the hell I was. "The trip where you had to stay overnight? And you had a nightmare?" With each sentence his face reached a new level of white. "Remember?"

"Shut it, Louise." He tried to usher the suits away from me. That only made me talk louder so they could hear me.

"Of course, you remember! It's the trip where you had to share a bed with Kyle Pressman, and you had a nightmare, and you woke up in the morning with the sheets soaking wet because you pissed yourself? And you- you tried to convince Kyle that it was night-sweats, but he didn't believe you and pulled back the sheets and they were yellow!" By this point I was practically yelling. Not only could the suits hear me, but so could half the wharf. "You had to bribe him with a hundred dollars not to tell anybody- don't tell me you forgot?"

Logan forced the chuckling businessmen to go over to the offices. Then he came storming back over to me. People were laughing and whispered and pointing at him. I felt pretty damn happy with myself. I smugly smiled into Logan's dark red face.

"You stupid little bitch." He literally spat when he spoke to me. I didn't give him the satisfaction of wiping my face. I was going to enjoy every moment of his rage. "How did you know that? Did Kyle squeal?"

"I'm not about to reveal my sources. But I don't know Kyle, Lolo," I taunted. He visibly flinched at the nickname his grandmother used to call him. A nickname I read he hated. "I guess I could have told your friends about the boner you got when you were asking Maria to the homecoming dance but I though the bedwetting story was funnier. Don't you think so?"

His eyes widened as he pieced together the puzzle. "How did you get my journal? How, Louise?" He stepped closer to me, and in that moment, I felt it. I had crossed a line. But my pride wasn't about to let me apologize. He was gripping his hands into fists, over and over. I could imagine that he was imagining my throat in his fingers but was settling on making fists.

"Your room."

"And what were you doing in my room?" He took another step closer. We were inches apart and he was a tower of barely-contained rage over my head. "Why were in you in my mother's house? Are you picking locks there too?"

People who, a moment ago, were watching us to laugh at Logan were now watching this interchange with rapt fascination. I c0uld sense dozens of watching eyes on him, on me. I couldn't tell if they were going to let him pound me into one hundred pounds of ground Louise or stop him before he lost it. I hoped it was the latter.

"I helped your mom during the days after her divorce from Tom- your Dad." I stammered. If you were to label the emotions running through my body, you could have called one of them fear.

"Give it to me Louise. Give me my journal," he demanded. "NOW."

"I don't have it anymore," I said. "I threw it into a dumpster behind Pancho's Tacos. The good one- on Riverside." I tossed the old lie back into Logan's face.

He looked down at the ground and turned to walk away. After two steps I let go of the breath I had been holding, without even realizing it. I felt myself relax. The crowd let out a groan of disappointment. There was nothing "viral" for their cameras after all.

But then some yahoo in the crowd had to speak. He had to put in his two cents. "That's it? She STOLE from you, man!" Logan stopped and so did my heart. He turned back to me and got so close that I could smell him- some sort of light cologne, beer on his breath from his lunch, and the smell of his fabric softener. All those normal scents contrasted with his body language, his anger. I assumed he would smell of fire and brimstone.

"You. You waste of space. I cannot believe I ever wasted any time on you. I was so wrong." He got silent for a moment and narrowed his eyes. My blood ran cold at that look. "I made a huge mistake walking into that fire. I should have let you burn."

He walked away; the crowds parted to let him by. I could feel a hundred eyes turn to me. If I could move I would have screamed at them. Go away. Leave me alone. Stop staring at me. Fuck off.

But I was frozen. Paralyzed. I'm not even sure if I was breathing. I lost track of time. The sun set to my left before I knew it. The buzz of the lamp light overhead coming on woke me from my stupor. I needed to get to work.

"Where you been girl?" Zeke shouted at me from the back. Gene was in the weeds and Zeke looked harried. I took a deep breath and shoved down everything I was thinking and everything I was feeling and put a huge rock on top of all of it. 'Get a grip, Lousie. It's time to work.' My parents had already gone upstairs to let us do the dinner shift. It was time to man up and deal. It was time to do my job. It was time to plan.

Two days later I made a call during my shift to my good old friend Sargeant Bosco. The rest of my shift at the restaurant was spent smiling. I took off my apron and walked out to the alley to just breathe. The last thing I expected was to see Logan Barry Bush waiting for me. He slammed the door shut behind me and smacked his hands flat against it on either side of my head.

"A drug bust at my apartment Louise? Really?!" He shouted at me. I traded stare for stare. I knew Logan wouldn't hit me now, if he was able to keep his cool the other day on the wharf.

"Did I ruin your weekend Logan? Any big plans you have to cancel now?" I smirked. I was glad he was so pissed off, and I did hope his weekend was ruined, at the least.

He had hurt me. Deep, in my soul kind of hurt. I had never felt anything like that before and I wasn't about to let him get away with it. I was not the type of girl to let anybody hurt me even a little. And he took the most personal part of me and strangled it. I cried because of him. I never cry, and he made me cry myself to sleep. After I had finished my shift that night I took his journal and flung in into the back of my closet. I figured I would burn it or deep fry it or turn it into a billion spitballs at some point. Then I buried myself into my pillow and cried. Next thing I knew it was morning and I had to go through the whole day with this empty hole in my chest.

I planned for two days, trying to figure out how to hurt Logan back. I considered sugar in his gas tank. Lighting his apartment on fire, which had particular poetry seeing as how it would bring things full circle, only this time Logan would have to save himself, nearly won. But then watching Gene power through eight hot dogs in one sitting and have my Dad tell a story about how he used to smoke pot and then eat hot dogs like Gene just did gave me an idea. (Picturing that image of my Dad downing hot dogs while high made me very happy.)

Logan was the kind of guy who might have "party stuff" stashed in his place. If the cops found anything, he would be in huge trouble. If he was clean, his entire place would be trashed and either way, it would be on record. And Bosco might get pissed with me but there's no way I could get into real trouble. I couldn't get caught doing anything illegal right now- for my parents' sake. Things were finally easy on them and I didn't want to ruin it by making them bail out their fifteen-year-old daughter for arson or destruction of property. I did, for a second, consider Voodoo again but I doubted it would work. So, calling in a tip to the cops it was.

I looked into Logan's face, feeling so satisfied. His breathing was quick, his forehead vein visible and pulsing angrily. Were the situation completely different, in a parallel universe, I might consider this romantic. I might have daydreamed just this situation. The way it was, in the real world, didn't feel romantic at all. In fact, it might look to a bystander like Logan was about to pull out a switchblade and slit my throat.

"There was nothing for them to find, you stupid cow. But now my apartment is trashed, my landlord wants to evict me, and my family is talking about rehab. I haven't done drugs since freshman year, Louise. I got my shit together and grew up. You should do the same thing!" He pulled away and gave me one last glare, then spat at my feet. "You're toxic. I'm done." He left.


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

"Look at my baby boy! He's so grown up!" My mom was sobbing into her shirt sleeves since we forgot to bring tissues to the ceremony. Gene did look grown up. He lost some his childhood weight and now looked like my dad's younger twin. If my dad's twin had hair to his shoulders and a bald upper lip, that is. Gene tried growing out facial hair for graduation but for some reason, his face remained smooth. Mom was bawling now. "Stand with your sisters and let me get a picture. Bobby, look!" Gene grabbed me and Tina around the shoulders and squeezed hard. He had grown taller than us both by now.

"Ow, Gene. Stop... please." Tina gasped.

"Yeah, Gene," I wriggled out of his hold after the camera

flash."Lay off." He smiled at me.

"I can't help it you guys. I'm done! I'm happy! Oh, look there's Peter. Hey, Pescadero!" Gene rushed over to celebrate the end of high school with his friends. We watched him awkwardly try to do a cool handshake with Peter and Lenny DeStefano, two of his closest high school friends. Lenny was also in his band. They started talking about music, so I knew it would take them a while. I looked around at Gene's classmates wearing caps and gowns. Huxley high's colors were gold and white, and nobody looked good in the gold/yellowish robes. Tina and Zeke started reminiscing about their graduation two years before. Then dad started to talk about his graduation one hundred years ago. Before Mom could start talking about _her_ graduation or cry about my graduation in two years, I ducked out of there. The restaurant was closed for the occasion and I was not about to waste a day off with my family. I loved them and all but... no. Not today.

It wasn't often I got the house to myself. Or more importantly, the shower with a full hot water tank. I rushed home to take advantage of the solitude and the warm water. Sometimes being the youngest really sucked, and I was always last in the shower rotation. My family tried, but our water tank was tiny and old. I was going to take a long hot shower and sing as loud as I wanted to without my mom trying to join in or my dad telling me to shut-up, so he could hear the weather station or, Gene trying to score me.

The shower put me in a better mood. Unfortunately, when I got back to my room it was spoiled again once I realized that I hadn't given Mom my laundry and therefor had no clean clothing to wear. I hung up my towel, wrapped myself in my fluffy robe, and started to look through the federal disaster area that was my closet.

"Old. Ugly. Tina's old stuff. Halloween costume. Is this Gene's?" I muttered to myself as I looked though the hangers of stuff. I looked down and decided to rifle through the clothes on the floor, most of which were victims of teenage girl syndrome- try on shirt, decide you hate it, and toss into closet without hanging back up. "Wow, I need to get some clothes. I haven't worn this in years!" I pulled out an old green dress. I wore that thing for years, until I got too tall to wear it as a dress anymore. Then I made it a shirt I wore with leggings, but Mom eventually said it was too old and if she saw it again she would throw it in the trash. For a person as sentimental as my mother, I figured she really hated the ratty thing and I better hide it. I had hung it up and forgotten about it, but it must have fallen off the hanger at some point to make it down here into the pit of the discarded. I folded it up and put it aside. Underneath it was a book.

Logan's journal... Out of curiosity I picked it up and began to leaf through the pages. I didn't get very far into it after I took it- only about halfway through his senior year of high school. Given the day, I was curious what his graduation was like. I flipped through the pages to the end of May.

 _Big day is here. Cannot wait to get out of this town and off to Princeton. Thanks to B.B.'s letter I think they already love me there. It sounds so heroic. "Teen saves young girl from inferno"_

 _The doctor says the scar tissue will fade with time. I hope so or I can never go to the beach again. It's an awesome story to tell the ladies but once they see my back, it's like girl-repellant. But still, I'm glad L.B.B. was burned and not L.B.B._

What? He was burned but not burned? Or was this another one of those confusing parts? Wait...

He had been burned? In the fire? I flipped back in the journal, looking for his entry about my rescue. I never looked for it, expecting it to be all self-congratulatory and ego-stroking. I found the pages. They were hard to read, and I realized it was because the ink was smeared. Was this water?

 _There was a fire yesterday. I had my date with S.D. at WonderWharf; we rode the Ferris wheel and I thought we might kiss but she pulled away when her phone rang. Her mom called- real cold shower Mrs. D. So, I was walking down the road on my way home when this firetruck blows by and stops a few buildings down. That's when I saw the fire. It was that B.B. dive on fire. G.B. was at the front door screaming for L.B.B. I don't know what came over me, but I pulled my hood over my head and ran up the stairs. The place was so dark with smoke. You never think about a place being on fire as dark, you know? It took a long time to find L.B.B because apparently, she sleeps in a closet? Once I found her, I thought she was dead. I couldn't get her to wake up, so I scooped her up and had to carry her downstairs. Girls look a lot lighter than they are!_

I scowled. Not now, nor have I ever, been heavy. He was just a wuss.

 _I tried to turn and leave but then I spotted the S.P.E. on her bed_ (S.P.E. was "stupid pink ears" in Loganese) _so I had to go back and grab those too. I knew that if she were still alive and found out I left her S.P.E. behind she would never let me forget it. So, I had L.B.B. and the S.P.E. and I was just about to get to the stairs when the ceiling fell. I ducked as fast as I could and used my shoulders to cover as most of her as I could, but a piece of wood from the attic nearly knocked us over. It took a minute or two for me get free, but my jacket caught fire. I ran L.B.B. down the stairs and handed her off to B.B. Then I did that stupid Stop, Drop, and Roll thing they teach you when you're a kid that you never expect to use. After a bit the fire was out but my sweater and shirt had burned through and my back hurt really bad. The paramedics put this dressing stuff on it and gave me a blanket. I caught my breath for a bit while the paramedics worked on L.B.B. They assured us she was alive, which was a huge relief. After the fire was out, they took her to the hospital. I drove myself there while calling my mom and telling her what happened. She yelled at me the whole drive. I just hung up when I got there._

 _When the docs saw me, they said I had some bad burns. 2_ _nd_ _degree but with a couple of deeper 3_ _rd_ _degree I think they said. Whatever they put on it made it feel a lot better. They gave me a tube of it and told me how to take care of it until it healed. I hope this doesn't scar. But...better me than her, right?_

I was stunned. Completely gob-smacked. He got hurt trying to protect me? Everything I had ever thought about him until then needed some reconsidering. I scanned ahead. He talked about how he went to talk to my parents and how Dad was thanking him and crying and everything. Mom said they owed him anything. He didn't want anything but then asked if they could write him a letter of recommendation for his college applications since his grades could use a little booster. He also told them not to tell me about his burns. He didn't want me to feel bad, he said.

I took the journal to my bed and set it on my lap. For a while, I couldn't move. There was so much to think about, to consider. All this time I thought he was just a selfish rich kid. But after what happened at the wharf and how he overpaid me... was Logan a nice guy? And I humiliated him, in front of his business partners. I made his family think he was an addict. The anger he showed before- was he feeling betrayed? You can't be betrayed by someone unless they are your friend. Logan thought we were friends.

Logan was my friend. And I fucked everything up.

By the end of summer, Gene had made the choice to hold off on college until Tina graduated so that Dad and Mom would have him at the restaurant. He would save money and work until then. I decided that it was time for Mom to take a step back from her duties, just like Dad was able to take a break because of Zeke. She showed me her incredibly convoluted and confusing way she did the books. For a while I struggled through with her system, until I figured out a better way. I updated the books to the computer. I created an online account at First Oceanside Bank to make our bill payments automatic. Now that we were having steady income, we didn't have to worry about controlled bounces anymore. Mom said she would miss talking to Marci on the phone, but I said she could always just take her out to lunch like a normal friend from now on.

All that finance wrangling at work ended up helping me in school later on. I learned to like math, for one thing. It helped that we weren't looking at negative numbers in the profit columns, for sure. Soon, Mom left all the bills to me.

I didn't see Logan the whole summer and to my surprise, I missed him. I knew these feelings, but I didn't tell anybody about it. Last time I felt like this, I slapped the guy for making me feel things. This time, the guy who made me feel wasn't around to slap. Instead, I kept my mouth shut and would read his journal. Midway during my junior year I read something that I had usually skipped over because the whole page he had been talking about work and it looked boring. I noticed he mentioned my Dad; that's what caught my attention.

 _I messed up. When I told C.F. about selling off his holdings it never occurred to me that I would ruin anybody's life. But today I did just that. Went to B.B. about buying his building. They had finished the rebuild and the restaurant was about to reopen. B.B. told me about the money problems they were having. L.B.B. just glared at me, I never felt so shitty before. Maybe Mom is right, and I am an ass. If someone else bought the building, they would definitely kick the B. family to the street- business and home gone. I have to fix this._

The next entry shook me to my core.

 _I went straight to C.F. and told him that the whole fire thing could end up being really bad for him if B.B. sued. Not that I think it would ever occur to B.B. to sue, but C.F. didn't know that. I convinced C.F. to retain ownership of their building and to lower the rent. He also threw in a five-year lease once I mentioned that L.B.B. nearly died. I promised to do all the paperwork and present it to B.B. myself since C.F. wasn't popular with them right now. C.F. thanked me for thinking of all this to save his ass. Everything worked out so well. Took B.B. the new lease agreement first thing this morning. I may have waited until I knew L.B.B. was at school so she wouldn't make me feel worse for nearly getting them evicted._

 _B.B. hugged me. I told him the only way he could thank me was by promising to keep it between us and telling everyone that it was all F's idea. I don't want L.B.B. to think I was just trying to cover my ass. I mean, I am but also because it's the right thing to do. I never meant to hurt them. Or her._


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

I hate yellow. I hated being in this sea of yellow polyester gowns and hats. I hated that Mom insisted I wear high heels and pantyhose and all this makeup. I don't mind wearing a little lip gloss or mascara, especially at work since it helped with tips, but this was just overkill, as most things Mom takes over. I couldn't wait until it was time to just grab my diploma, toss this ugly flat hat, and go home. I was starving, and Dad promised to make an extra special burger for me in celebration.

We had a lot to celebrate tonight, after all. Two days ago, Tina graduated college with a degree in creative writing. After the ceremony, Zeke got down on one knee and proposed. There were lilies and a violinist playing. He quoted "The Notebook." It was every sappy romantic cliché in the book. It was perfect for Tina, and now they were engaged. Like, I said, lots to celebrate.

After I walked, posed for the standard picture with my brother and sister (and her obnoxious, gratuitous ring flashing), and went home, I threw the disgusting yellow outfit into the back of my closet, hopefully to die a death befitting of the least flattering color in the universe. I tossed on some clothes and went down to have my dad make an extra special burger dinner for me, Tina, and Zeke.

"A toast!" Dad held up his beer. Zeke and Gene held up their beer bottles, Mom and Tina held up champagne glasses, and I raised my soda. "To my girls who couldn't make me prouder. And to my newest son, Zeke. I know you'll make our Tina as happy as you've made me." We all kinda looked at each other. Dad meant that hiring Zeke was a good idea, but he obviously wasn't thinking about how his words were sounding out loud. Of course, he was well into his fourth beer, so we just let it slide. Dad was happy. Tina and Zeke were blissful. Mom teared up at least once every five minutes.

I was just so relieved to be FREE, at long last. Like Gene, I had decided to defer college until Gene was all done. Mom and Dad needed help and I couldn't leave them without both me and Gene. I wasn't sure a big four-year school was for me anyway. I knew what I wanted; I wanted the restaurant. Maybe some business classes, some cooking school... that would be enough for me. I could even do a lot online, so I wouldn't have to go anywhere. Tina wanted to be a writer. Gene wanted to study music. I was already set. And Dad would never ask for my references or for a bachelor's degree. I was pretty happy with things as they stood.

As I lay in bed that night I knew that not having to get up and go to school tomorrow would be the sweetest feeling in the whole world. I was messing with my computer, checking out all my friends' grad photos on social media and just wasting time. The twins were posing with their Dad. Rudy and his dad hugging. Someone made Millie a giant yellow mortarboard cake. Everyone was so happy. Soon we would all be scattered to the winds, like my brother's and sister's classes did but for today, we were just relieved and happy.

Tina went straight from her college dorm to Zeke's apartment. I think my mom was sad she didn't come home but she should have seen this coming. Tina already half lived there anyway. She never stayed with us when she came home to visit. She probably had more of her stuff at Zeke's than school. And now Gene was getting ready for school. There was a music conservatory about three hours from here and his audition was next week, the day after my birthday. We were going to postpone the party until it was over. I would celebrate turning eighteen and Gene's admission together. I had no doubt he would get in.

He learned to play the keyboard (for real) by the time he was in high school. Then he learned several other instruments because the music teacher at Huxley kept assigning him to take over for missing students in Jazz and Concert band. Gene refused to join the marching band because of work but he could play the bass guitar just as good as the keyboard and he could fill in on xylophone and tympani if called on. He learned to play harmonica from Teddy. He tried to learn clarinet from Pescadero but gave up after two hours. Dad assured him five instruments was enough.

The Conservatory audition was broken into four parts- playing music you pre-rehearsed, sight-reading something new, stage presence aka the "sparkle factor," and then composition. The only thing Gene was freaking out on was the cold-read. He didn't learn to read music until high school. For some reason, he didn't think six years of practice at it was enough. Huxley's band instructor, his old music tutor Ms. Mirkin, and all his band mates were adamant he was prepared. Nobody could match him for sparkle. And his compositions? He had been writing songs since before he knew what he was doing. He may have been nervous but nobody else was. We all knew he was as good as in.

"Just one glass of champagne, Louise." My dad gave me a look of admonishment, but his pride in me tempered it. He lowered his voice a little. "Happy Birthday. Okay, maybe two glasses, but that's it!"

I just laughed at sipped at the "champagne" my dad got at the grocery store. If these grapes had ever seen France I would eat my dad's spatula, but it was nice all the same. I would just pretend that I had never had any before, because _of course_ Tina didn't give me any at her high school graduation, or Gene at his. And _of course,_ the Pesto twins and I had never snuck schnapps at a school assembly. And _of course,_ I was completely sober when I lost my virginity. Let Dad live in his illusions.

"Thanks, Daddy." Occasionally I would call him that because he said it helped him feel less old. I figured he could use all the help he could get. Gene tapped on his microphone and cleared his throat. He was done setting up his equipment.

"I would like to play for you my standing-ovation-earning original composition that sealed my acceptance into the music conservatory. A one, two, three..."

I listened to Gene strum his old bass as he played with his band. As I knew it would be, the double celebration for my birthday and his successful audition filled the restaurant with friends and family. Mort and Teddy were jamming at the counter. Jimmy Jr. sat next to Zeke and they kept trying to tell each other about their passions- Jimmy talking about his new job as a background dancer at the big musical theater they built a few years before, and Zeke trying to talk about Tina. Tina and my mom were showing off Tina's engagement ring to our Aunt Gayle, who was crying and looking very jealous that her niece found a man before she did. The twins were playing some sort of weird hand game they invented, the rules of which only they knew. Dad and I stood behind the counter, just watching the band. Gene's and my friends filled in the booths and even a bit of space on the floor.

Tonight marked the end of an era and beginning of a new one. Mom and Dad were officially turning over management to Zeke and me, full time. They would still work a few days a week and they were still owners but all the hard work of the extra hours, the finances, the ordering- that was done for them. It was our burden to bear now. I caught Zeke's eyes and nodded. He nodded back. We were ready and excited about this. As far as the customers knew, nothing would be different, but we knew everything was. It was a feeling of excitement mixed with abject terror. I couldn't wait for tomorrow.

By December, it seemed like things had always been this way. Zeke whistled as he flipped burgers and chopped trimmings. Dad got to do the fancy work of roasting turkeys, braising lamb, and brining pork chops. Mom sat at the counter and chatted with customers, much like she always did only now it was my job to cover the rest of the front. Tina had stayed home and sat in front of her computer, working on her manuscript. She sold a book to a romance novel publishing house and her editor wanted it done by end of the year. Always the perfectionist, she kept rewriting and changing everything until it made a "Passionfruit Paperback" look like a dime novel, in her words.

The front door bell jingled with holiday zest. Mike the mailman smiled at me as he handed Mom a stack of mail. There were lots of colorful envelopes- likely Christmas cards."Oooo, I wonder if Gene wrote me a letter?" Mom flipped through the letters.

"Mom, you talked to him on the phone this morning. Why would he write you a lett-"

"Oh, look here it is!" I shut my mouth. Mom and Gene had some sort of weird gossip bond that was not covered by phone calls, text messages, and emails alone. Apparently, he wrote her letters too. I shook my head and continued to bus the table.

"Mom and Dad sent us a Christmas card, Bobby!" Mom exclaimed over each card as she went through the mail. "Here's one from Ginger and Tony." Dad replied with a lack-luster "Uh-huh, Lin," after each announcement.

"Here's a holiday newsletter from the president of your garden, Bob." At that, my Dad actually came around to the front and scanned it with real interest. "No Christmas party this year, apparently. Cynthia says she's too busy planning Logan's wedding."

"CRASH"

A silence fell on the room. Even Zeke stopped whistling. I could feel their eyes on me. I had dropped the bucket of dirty dishes I was holding. Plates, cups, and glasses went rolling across the floor. My face grew hot with embarrassment. I hadn't broken a dish in a long time. It wasn't like me to be a butterfingers. That was Tina. Without looking up, I knelt and started picking up the pieces of plates and glasses that littered the tile.

"Uh... yeah. So, it seems Logan just graduated with his Master's in business and is taking over all Fischoeder's holdings for him. And he's engaged too! Busy little beaver!" Mom folded up the newsletter and put it aside with all the other mail. She went back to chatting with Mort as if nothing were different in the world at all.

As I wiped up spilled coffee and soda from the floor, I knew everything was different.

That night I looked at Logan's journal again. I hadn't picked it up in a good while but tonight I felt compelled to. I brushed the front cover softly. This book had taught me a lot about my former enemy. I learned the secrets my parents were honor-bound to keep. I learned he felt guilty after scaring me and Gene the day I threw the cantaloupe. I learned that Logan had a conscience and a really good heart. I found out that Logan thought I was good person too. Too bad he was wrong. A knock on my bedroom door broke me from my reverie.

"Come in." My dad entered and sat on my bed.

"What happened today, Louise? Are you alright?" I set the journal on my bookcase quickly, but I know he saw it. "I know your relationship with Logan has always been complicated but I thought-"

I cut him off. "I'm fine, Dad. Slippery bucket." I hoped he would forgive the obvious lie. I had never admitted as much to my father, but I know he saw more of me than anybody else in the family, even Tina. If anyone could guess about my growing crush on Logan, it would have been Dad. He watched me whenever Logan had come up in conversation over time. Dad knew me. He gazed at me a moment or two, heaved a sigh and stood up.

"I'm here if you need me. Always have been."

"Always will be. I know. Thanks Dad." He left my room, softly closing the door behind him.


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

"The Biiiiiiiig Apple!" Andy and Ollie Pesto were perhaps not the most conventional choice for traveling companions but their enthusiasm more than made up for their idiosyncrasies. Besides, who am I to throw stones?

"Yeah, yeah, pipe down. I don't want to look like a tourist!" I heatedly whispered. I shoved them into the street with the rest of the pedestrians.

"The crosswalk isn't green!" Andy protested. He and Ollie balked like stubborn children. I just kept pushing them across forty second street towards Madam Tussauds.

"Ugh, you're such noobs."

I spent some of the money I was saving up for my business classes on a trip to New York with my favorite wacky twins. They were home from school on spring break and Tina and Zeke told me told to take the weekend and go have fun with my friends while they took care of the restaurant. I wanted to protest but not very hard, so I just accepted this gift with grace. I basically just told Andy and Ollie to pack a weekend of stuff (including their dad's Mastercard) and dragged them to the train station. A few of hours later, we disembarked from the bus that we hopped in Atlantic City at the Port Authority bus station just a block away from our hotel.

Trying to wrangle them both was a bit like herding cats, but I knew we would have lots of fun together. They were complaining of hunger and since I wasn't about to let them pull me towards some touristy Hard Rock Wolfgang whatever, I said were going to grab a regular New York slice and then see some cool New York shit.

We went to the Dakota building and then across the street to the park. We visited Obscura Antiques until Andy got freaked out by all the two-headed fetal pigs in jars. I was trying to talk them into going to the Ruins of the Roosevelt Smallpox Hospital when the look of panic in their eyes told me that was something I would have to do on my own. Instead I gave in to the side of me that said I needed to be nice and asked them what they wanted to see. Without skipping a beat, they yelled in unison-

"The Sea Glass Carousel!" I smiled at their excitement. That was down in Battery Park. I guess it would give me a chance to go see the Bull by the NYC Stock Exchange, and the little girl standing defiant at the financial institutions and all that represented.

"Sure," I replied.

The twins were watching the carousel go around and around and they gazed transfixed. They weren't about to go anywhere anytime soon. I told them I would be back in an hour or two and we could go grab dinner at the Pig and Whistle- Mr. Fischoeder recommended it which was enough for me. I took the chance to wander the park in the fading sunlight of the afternoon. It felt a lot like home in this park. It was better than Central Park, in my opinion, because it felt a little funkier, a little weirder. Like that guy dressed as a robot busking on the street corner. So, I just walked around the park and people watched.

I wandered over to the Charging Bull a couple of blocks away. The twins would be occupied for a while longer, I figured, and I always wanted to stand next to the defiant girl. As I wandered up Broadway, I continued to watch people. Between the buildings, dark had already fallen, and the wind tunneled through with extra force. I suddenly wished I had pulled my hair back since it was whipping around my head. People walked with sweaters pulled tightly around them, leaning in towards the wind. One woman chased her scarf down the street. There was no snow anymore, but this spring had a frosty bite still. I made my way to the Bull and took an obnoxious and not-at-all lowkey selfie with it. Then I made my way over to the defiant girl and stood next to her for a solid five minutes, matching poses and staring down The Man. A few people took photos of me and I gathered a little crowd. I was a little proud of myself. Bucket list achievement unlocked baby!

The next day we took in a show- cheap seats at Hamilton- and a fancy lunch at Sardi's so I could take pictures for Gene and Mom. The twins wanted to take a carriage ride around central park, and since they were paying I gave in. We rode with me in the middle because I wasn't about to be the third wheel- the driver thought we were a weird threesome couple because of it so I kissed Andy while groping Ollie to give him a thrill. The twins then giggled and blushed for the rest of ride. Since we had to catch the train home we booked it to the station.

While waiting on the platform, a couple holding hands caught my eye. And it wasn't Andy and Ollie, even though they, too, were holding hands "so they wouldn't lose each other." The couple were cute, her leaning on his shoulder and playing with his hair that fell over his shirt collar. He kissed the top of her hair and murmured to her. Then he turned to look down the track and that's when I felt like I'd been smacked on the back of the head. It was Logan.

By the way she was hanging on him, I realized the girl must be his wife. Or if she wasn't, she still felt very close to him. I felt a stone drop in my stomach. 'Get your shit together Louise.' I chastised myself. 'Don't lose it because it's Logan. You know he is with someone. Knock it off!'

Once more I shoved my feelings down and ground them into the floor with my foot. Andy called me over to stand by them, so we wouldn't miss the train and I hurried back, hoping Logan didn't hear him say my name. Since Logan never turned, I guess he didn't. The whole trip home I made a point of laughing and joking and having a good time, just to spite the lump in my throat and my stinging eyes.

I would usually just brush off when guys flirted with me at work. They would slip me numbers when they checked out. A few tried grabbing or touching me until word go around that I break grabby fingers. I'm not sure how that rumor started but I do know a few guys with very fragile finger bones.

So, when this guy slipped me a piece of paper with his name and number, my first instinct was to crumple the paper and toss it out, like usual. But something stopped me this time. It could have been the memory of Logan kissing that woman's hair. It could have been his sweet brown eyes or soft chestnut hair.

It could have been the fact that he tipped thirty five percent.

But this time I smiled at him, gave a little wink, and slipped the paper into my pocket.

Later that evening after close, I sat around with Tina and Zeke and snuck a beer while my parents were upstairs. The restaurant was really crowded today but we really pushed it and my tips were fantastic. I was sorting out the bills and counting while smugly smiling and planning what to do with all of it. Most of it would go to savings for business classes but... at least SOME of it was earmarked for something frivolous. As I made a stack of ones, a small white slip of paper drifted towards the table.

"What's that?" Tina grabbed at it before I could stop her. "Who's Kevin?"

"Kevin... is... a... customer," I said through attempts to grab my paper back from my sister. I finally snatched it out of her fingers. "He had a nice face and I didn't throw out his number when he gave it me because I was too busy."

"So, you're going to call him?" Tina pried into my life with her sister-talons. She was the ultimate romantic and seemed hell-bent on coupling up everyone around her. I rolled my eyes in a decidedly exaggerated fashion.

"If I feel like it. Knock it off, T." I folded them piece of paper with Kevin's name and number and slipped it back into my apron. Tina looked up to Zeke's face in search for solidarity, but Zeke was never part of her yenta hobby.

"No way, T-bird. Louise will make my life a living hell. You love me too much, I know you'll forgive me." Zeke wrapped his arm around her and kissed the top of her head. I flashed back to the train platform. Logan with that woman. Logan holding her hand and kissing her hair. Logan living his life without toxic me.

"Well, that's enough for me. I'm going to take my stacks of money and go upstairs," I declared as I left the restaurant and the lovebirds. After I got upstairs I found my parents cuddled on the couch, whispering to each other and chuckling to themselves. In a way it was sweet to know they still had such affection after all these years. But, on the other hand, it was nauseating, and I had to escape the love fest before I lost my mind.

My room was a haven from the romance everywhere around me. Simple anime posters, video games, random clothes and shoes littering the floor. Bookcase stuffed with knick-knacks, old toys, even a few books. My "goodie drawer" that was almost as good as boyfriend with none of the emotional garbage. This was a safe place.

"You're doing what?" I barked at my mother. She and Dad were sitting at the kitchen table, upending my life.

"We're moving, Louise," my dad replied.

"What about me?" Perhaps not the most self-less thing to ask about in the moment but I had lived in the apartment above the restaurant my whole life. I had twenty-one years of life plastered all over this place. And now my parents wanted to change things. Why couldn't life just pause for a minute until I had my footing?

"It's just a few blocks from here, sweetie," continued.

"Actually, Louise, we're taking Zeke and Tina's place." Dad interjected. "And they are moving in here." Confusion. It's all I felt, from head to toe- confusion.

"What?"

"Their place is a two bedroom and this place has three. Well, four, if you count your old closet. We don't need all this space anymore." Mom smiled at me.

"And we do." Tina appeared behind me. Her and Zeke stood in the doorway. Tina was giving me a shy smile and Zeke looked both ecstatic and terrified.

"Oh good lord- you're knocked up!" I exclaimed and jumped out of my chair.

"Louise Belcher! That's a terrible way to say it!" Mom scolded me on my manner, but I was too busy hugging my crazy pregnant sister. All her life she wanted to fall in love and have a family. Now she was living her dream.

"That's amazing Tina!" I hugged her and Zeke again.

"And you- you can choose. Go live with your mom and dad or stay here and help us. We could use it, Lulu." Zeke looked at me with pleading eyes. He feared being a dad and needed help with his already nutty pregnant wife. If this was a job for anyone, it was a job for a sister.

I only needed a microsecond to consider this. I had a million reasons of my own to stay, including hating packing, but it would have taken a harder heart than mine to turn down Zeke's puppy dog eyes. Even if he did insist on that stupid moniker for me.

"Only if you promise to never use that name again, brother." I gave Zeke and half smile, knowing his response.

"Can't do, Lulu. You in or you out?"

"In, you giant half-bear-man-freak. I'm so in." Then I went in for the inescapable group hug and felt my parents join in behind me.


	11. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

"I love my nephew, Zeke, but I will toss him off the roof if you can't quiet him down. I have to finish this paper for my marketing class by midnight!" I called from my bedroom door before closing it. Sebastian, my two-year-old nephew, hadn't stopped crying in days. He caught a cold at daycare and nothing Zeke or Tina could do would help. It was ten pm and the restaurant was closed so I unplugged my laptop to go downstairs.

"Sorry, Lulu. He's driving me crazy too!" Zeke was rocking back and forth with Seb in his arms, looking like he hadn't slept in years. Tina was trying but she was on bedrest with twins playing the bongos on her bladder, so she could only help so much. Mostly she tapped away on her keyboard writing her next book. How she could concentrate while Sebastian practiced his audition to star in the next Omen film was beyond me. I went over to Zeke and the baby, gave Sebastian a kiss on his burning forehead and smiled at my brother-in-law.

"Give him a lukewarm bath. The water will feel cool on his fever. I'm gonna go work downstairs and remove at least one of your headaches. Feel better, little buddy!" I dashed off to work in the quiet solitude of the empty restaurant.

The quiet contrasted so strongly to the noise upstairs that for a moment it seemed too quiet, as if I had gone deaf or something. Then I realized that if I listened hard I could hear Seb crying though the ceiling and Zeke trying to shush him. 'That's more like it,' I thought to myself. I went behind the counter and turned the radio on to an oldies station. It was just loud enough to drown out my family but quiet enough so as to not be distracting. White noise radio- I bet that would be a big seller.

After about half an hour that was more productive than the previous two hours spent upstairs, I got up to stretch and get some feeling back in my feet. Some people found my thinking pose where I sat on my feet uncomfortable, but it helped me work. Unfortunately, I had to get up a couple times an hour or my legs went numb. I glanced around the dark room, lit only by the laptop screen, and inhaled the restaurant smell- burger, fry oil, onions, and the smell of the disinfectant we used on the counter tops. It smelled like my childhood. It smelled like family. It was home to me.

The sight of a lonely laptop on the table of my favorite booth brought back an old memory, unbidden. Cynthia, attempting to get Logan into all the best college prep programs, typing away on her computer sitting in this exact booth. All that was missing was a cup of hot water and a lemon slice. And Logan.

A few days later, Seb was feeling better and taking a nap before dinner. Zeke was prepping the meal in the kitchen. Mom and Dad were running the restaurant tonight with our annoying part-time help we hired, so Zeke, Tina, and I were taking the chance to sit around the table and have some adult conversation that wasn't work-related. I was doing some reading at the table, looking through the newspaper for fun town gossip to talk about at dinner. Tina suddenly waddled through the door, roundly pregnant but glowing with joy.

"Louise! I forgot to tell you! Remember that girl Logan married?" That was sure to get my attention, as I'm sure my big sister knew. It was sixteen years since we first met Logan on the steps after school, but she knew his name was still likely to grab my attention, after all this time. I set my paper down and met her eyes.

"...and?" I prodded. She rarely had really interesting stories and she was going to milk the opportunity, I could tell.

"I saw her at Hot Totties, when I took Sebastian there last week." She pulled out a chair and lowered herself onto it. Zeke dropped his whisk and rushed to help her. Their devotion was admirable, but a little sickening to live with all the time.

"I'm still mad at you, T-bird. You're supposed to be on bed rest- doctor's orders!" Zeke's admonition of his wife was half-hearted at best. He just loved her too much and couldn't stay angry with her.

"Seb was climbing the walls and I had to do something. So, we took a walk down to Hot Toddies and I saw Marie, or Martha, or Muriel- what's her name?" Tina put her feet up on a spare chair and watched me with a knowing look. I tried my best not to flinch.

"Megan, Tina. Her name is Megan. And you're just trying to provoke me." I glared at my sister with what I hoped was a death-stare, but I knew was likely just petulance. "So, Megan was at Hot Totties. And?"

"She was there with a little girl. Blonde hair, curls, cute as can be." Tina described what could only be Logan's daughter with this woman. I felt like she gut-punched me. I knew she was just trying to drive it home that Logan was the unattainable thing I held onto and needed to let go, but I don't know if she realized how hard I held on. And how hard I would take this news. For some reason, him having a family just made everything worse. People got divorced from their wives all the time, but when there were kids? They stayed. They worked harder. There was more reason to try.

Logan was well and truly gone.

Two hours later, dinner eaten, kitchen cleaned, and Zeke, Tina, and Sebastian watching the Equestranauts on the television in the living room, I slipped down to the bar next door. I needed something stronger than Sebastian's grape juice to process this news about Logan.

"Hey Joe, scotch neat." I sat at the bar and ordered my usual. He poured me a glass and said nothing. I liked that about Joe- he never chit-chatted, he never repeated what he overheard, and he never questioned an order. You order it, he made it. Zeke and I liked to look up obscure cocktails to stump him, but Joe would just whip it up. We tasted some truly disgusting cocktails in this game, but also got very drunk so we considered ourselves winners anyway.

Tonight, there would be no laughing and camaraderie. Tonight, there would be drinking to drink. Drinking to be drunk. Drinking to drown memories and feelings. Because when life gets you down, you raise yourself back up on a river of liquor, that's the Louise way. Before I knew it, my glass was empty, and I was ordering more from Joe. I wish my feelings were as empty as my glass could be.

Somebody put an angry rock station on the radio to suit the mood. Since the only other person in the bar tonight was Joe, perhaps he just read my face. It was a good idea since if there was country music or sappy ballads or basically anything else, I would have stopped after 3 glasses. But since Joe knew I literally lived a few steps away and the atmosphere matched my innards, I kept drinking. After five I knew that if I were to stand, I would fall over. So, I guessed there was nothing to do except drink another, since I wasn't leaving the stool.

"Last call." Joe's voice broke me out of my mood. I checked my watch and saw it was ten until two. Where had the night gone? Last I remembered, I was ordering my sixth scotch and counting all the terrible things about Logan that I could remember so that the rock in my stomach would dissolve. Or at least the scotch would dissolve it. I turned my tumbler over, slapped a hundred-dollar bill I had grabbed from my savings earlier in the evening, and lurched to my feet. I needed the wall to get myself out the front door. Joe eyed me with trepidation but said nothing. Good ole Joe. Everything you could ask for in a bartender- non-judgmental and quiet as a church-mouse.

I stumble-shuffled down the sidewalk until I stubbed my toes on a parking sign. Something in me became sure that everything wrong in my life was the fault of this one stop sign.

"You stupid sign! Why are you always in the way? Why can't you just move?" I started kicking the sign repeatedly and started slapping it. I kept going, letting loose my rage and frustration and grief on the poor, unsuspecting parking sign. "Why are you even here? You couldn't be anywhere else- you had to be here! Here with your stupid metal face. Your stupid face and your stupid wife and your stupid daughter! You had to be in my town, on my sidewalk, around my family! Why can't you just disappear? Why can't you move away and stop getting in my way? Stop haunting me! Leave me alone! Just go! Goddamn you, you piece of shit, just GO! GO! Leave me alone! Leave me alone! Stop breaking my heart and LEAVE ME ALONE!"

I went off on that poor sign for at least ten minutes in a similar fashion. Then I heard a siren whoop and saw Julia. One moment I was screaming at a street sign and the next I'm screeching in the back of a cruiser with Julia nodding her head and calling in to dispatch that she was bringing in a drunk and disorderly.

"It's all Logan's fault! I didn't do anything! It's Logan! Logan Barry Bush and his fucking face!" I was appalled to find tears on my face. "He ruined everything! He ruined ME! Arrest him, not me! IT'S LOGAN!"

The jail cell smelled. It smelled really bad. I'm pretty familiar with the smell of urine, and I knew urine was part of the stench. Urine and... was that vomit? Ugh. The smell of urine and vomit was going to urge me to vomit. I wanted out of here, but they hadn't let me call anyone yet. I was concocting lies to tell Zeke to make him come down here and bail me out when I heard footsteps. I sat up off the delightfully odiferous bench and looked up into the face of my captor, Julia.

"Made bail, kid. Try to have your nervous breakdowns at home next time. That's what I do." I could have said about a million things to that sentence, but instead I just shuffled out to the front. Before I gathered my thoughts, she handed me my effects and shut the door in my face. I didn't even get to ask her who posted my bail, or if I needed to report to anyone.

Outside the station, a cab was parked by the curb. I leaned over and asked if he could give me a lift home.

"You Louise Belcher?" Taken aback and confused, I nodded slowly. "Then get in. Somebody already paid me to take you to... Bob's burgers on Ocean Avenue? Is that where you live?" I nodded again. "Then hop in."

I slid into the backseat and wondered how anyone knew where I was. And why whoever it was would pay for my bail AND a cab ride home. The time in jail and the car ride sobered me enough to notice when we passed the sign I assaulted. I had dented it pretty good. I was a little impressed with sloppy, angry, drunk Louise.

I hopped out of the taxi, regretted that choice instantly since I was only a _little_ bit sober, and waved thank you to the driver. The front door proved open. I slipped inside and quietly crawled my way upstairs. Tina was asleep on the couch, Sebastian asleep on Zeke, and Zeke passed out on the floor. Rather than disturb them, I snuck into my room and shut the door.

Morning came with a vengeance.

"Rise and shiny; Shake your hiney!" Tina's morning wake-up call to Sebastian was less cute and more infuriating when spoken after my adventuresome evening. I opened one bleary eye and felt instant pain in my head.

"Ughhhhhhh..."

"Glad to see you so bright eyed, Louise. Would you like to know who called at three a.m. and woke Sebastian? Logan."

Despite shooting pains mixed with throbbing pains and a stomach doing somersaults, I sat up and looked straight at my sister.

"What?!" I must have misheard her.

"Last night, at around three o'clock in the morning, we were all asleep. Then the phone rang. Zeke answered and was screaming at the caller. You know how well he takes being woken up. He then tossed me the phone and went to calm Sebastian and I started talking to Logan Bush. Apparently, YOU got drunk and started beating up public property? So, someone called the cops- I bet it was Edith- and Julia picked you up. Because you were doing lots of screaming about one Logan Berry Bush, they called him. He drove down to the station, posted your bail, apologized to everyone on your behalf, and called us. He said that you were okay and were on the way home in a minute. He also said I shouldn't tell you it was him, but after yesterday, I figured you needed to know more than I should keep the secret. What happened, Louise?"

"Tina, that's a lot of information to process after a night spent inside a bottle of scotch. Give me a minute to think." I squeezed my eyes and wished we lived in Alaska where it was dark half the year. Once I had myself under control, including making sure that I would NOT vomit all over my sister, I told Tina the whole story.

"And then the cab dropped me off here," I concluded. "I went to bed and next thing I knew you were in my face." I snapped that last bit. Maybe I was still drunk.

"Well, look Louise. I don't know what it is about Logan and that whole thing that gets under your skin so bad. I don't know why you tried to give yourself alcohol poisoning last night. And I can't imagine what you did to that street sign because it looks like Gene's first car that time he tried to eat tacos while driving. But I do know this," Tina sighed and put her hand on my shoulder. "You owe a thank you to Logan. I don't know how much it cost to get you out last night, but he didn't have to do anything, and he did. He posted your bail and made sure you got home safe and called us so that we wouldn't worry about you. He's a good man, Louise. You really should consider that."

Without another word, Tina left my room. For a moment I felt resentful that she was acting like Mom, but I let that go pretty quick. Tina was a mom now. She saw someone acting like a baby, so she reacted. I couldn't be mad at her. Or, it seems, at Logan. I could only be mad at myself.

To make things worse, Tina was right. I did owe Logan my thanks. I would have to consider what I could do to show my gratitude.

It had been three weeks since I sent Logan the letter and my old pink ears as a thank you. He hadn't replied. Maybe he didn't care. Maybe he threw them out. Maybe his perfect little wife did. Maybe he burned it all without opening it.

I thought sending him my ears, the symbol of so much between us, would be the perfect olive branch. I thought my heart-felt letter would at least warrant some sort of response. Getting his current address from Cynthia had been a huge pain in the ass, and it looked like it was all for nothing.

I guess I was wrong. Maybe I just needed to let Logan go, for real this time.


	12. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Sebastian ran around "helping" me run the front while his dad ran the grill and our part-timer Sharon manned the counter. My nephew was very cute but highly ineffectual. At least he wasn't making a mess and he wasn't screaming. Tina was upstairs trying to juggle the twins and finish her manuscript. This was the fourth (fifth?) and her publishers were starting to put the screws to her. Apparently having three children under the age of five was not enough of an excuse to them for being behind. I did not envy her. The twins had colic and even working the packed lunch rush was more peaceful than being upstairs- hence Sebastian choosing to work with "Aunt Weezy."

I scooped him up after he tugged on my pant leg for the fifty- or sixtieth time. "Seb! May I help you good sir?" I asked my nephew. Then I blew a raspberry into his stomach to make him giggle. He clapped his chubby little hands and begged "Again, Again!"

I didn't hear the doorbell jingle, but I did hear a voice behind me say, "Is that a service anyone can order because nobody blows raspberries into my tummy anymore." If I hadn't been holding my nephew, I would have dropped everything in my hands. As it was, I dropped my jaw and turned around to see Logan Bush standing in my restaurant.

"Aunt Weezy, are you fish?" Seb asked me. His mother always told him to close his mouth because he would let his jaw slack by telling him he looked like a fish. He was ecstatic to get to tell a grownup she was a fish. Logan laughed.

"She does look fishy, doesn't she little guy? Here," and with that he reached out to me and pushed up my chin with a single finger. If I could have formed words I would have tried to say something snarky or sassy or sarcastic. Instead I just smiled like an idiot, gave Seb a kiss on the cheek and set him down.

"Go find your daddy and stay away from the oven." He was too short to reach the counters or the grill, so it was relatively safe to send him into the kitchen to find Zeke.

I watched Sebastian disappear behind the counter and turned back to the man in front of me who made me stupid. After all my experience dating and with guys, I still hadn't shaken Logan and his hold over me. "He's adorable. Is he yours?" Logan stood there, hands in his pockets and stupid brilliant smile on his stupid handsome face.

"Uh, no. No. God no. That's my nephew. He's Tina's. I don't have kids." I stammered out my disclaimer, bumbling words like a twelve-year-old with a crush. I could feel my face grow hot, but I wasn't about to give Logan the satisfaction of looking away. Now that I got my tongue un-stuck, I suddenly remembered that this man may have done some great things for me and my family in the past, but the past was gone, and we were just strangers now. He made sure of that by never responding to my hat.

"Can I help you?" I decided politeness would be the best course of action for the man who oversaw our lease.

"So formal now, Louise? Aw, it's alright. I'm here on business anyway." He pulled an envelope out of his satchel and I nervously wiped my hands on my apron. I didn't know if it was nerves, or if Sebastian was wet, but my hands were damp, and I couldn't face Logan with nephew pee, or sweat, or who knows what on me. I ran behind the counter and grabbed some sanitizer, quickly eliminating whatever it was. He handed me a stack of papers from across the counter. As if he had done so every day of his life, he sat on a stool and opened a menu. "Chicken fried steak burger with country gravy... Japanese eggplant burger with garlic aioli...Lamb chop platter on Sundays? You sure have made some changes to the menu. Did you have to kill Bob?" Logan joked.

For some reason, I couldn't be nervous talking about my dad. "Ha! No. He hired Zeke and eventually Zeke wore him down on switching up our menu, on offer some new things. It really helped with business. That's why it's me here today and not Dad. He takes Fridays off now. "

"Well it looks like you are doing great these days. Speaking of business, that's your new lease agreement. Two years, new rent- it's a tiny bit higher to match inflation, but you guys should be able to handle it fine." I flipped through the pages and looked at the new rate. It was, quite literally, fifty dollars more a month than last time. I looked up between my eyelashes and made a face at Logan. It was the smallest rent increase he could have made, and he knew it, and I knew it, and he knew I knew it, and I knew he knew I knew it. Rather than say anything, I turned the pages back and signed on the line.

"Louise Beatrice Belcher? That's so pretty," he saw my signature and said something to provoke me. I gave him a half-smile and an eyebrow raise.

"Cute, Logan Barry Bush. Is that all you needed?" I handed him back the pages, and he tucked all of them but the last into his satchel. The last page he handed back to me.

"Well, I'm hungry. Could I also get some lunch?" I looked to Sharon and told her to go man the floor. She grinned and ran to attend to the customers. Potential for tips was much higher with the family booths but the pressure was higher, which is why I usually handled it. But so long as Logan was here, I wasn't going anywhere. I wasn't sure what his angle was, but we were talking to each other like real people, and I wasn't going to waste this opportunity.

"Well then, let's start this right. Good afternoon, Sir. Can I get you anything to drink today?"

He laughed and asked for some water with ice.

Two hours, a cheeseburger and fries, and lots of conversation later, Logan walked out the door and gave me a smile and a little salute. I wiped down the counter in a mindless daze of contentment until Zeke broke my train of thought.

"Louise! Earth to Lulu!" I snapped back to attention and looked back through the kitchen window.

"What Zeke?" I yelled, perturbed he use that ridiculous nickname in public.

'Whoa, Lulu, you okay? You were staring at the counter for, like, a long time," Zeke raised his brows and gave me a concerned look. I just sighed and shrugged.

"Yeah, I'm okay. Feeling weird." It wasn't a lie. I did feel weird, down in the pit of my stomach. I guess it was happiness at being able to talk with Logan. Or maybe it was that we spoke for nearly two hours and he didn't mention Megan once. I snapped myself back to reality and got back to work.

Only thing was, I was distracted for the rest of the day. I worked until closing but I spent the whole time in a daze. I didn't get mad when I was stiffed on a tip. I barely noticed when a customer spilled their soda all over me. I was ignoring Seb for so long he latched himself on my leg and sat on my foot until I noticed that he was trying to get my attention. I tried a little harder to be present after that, but I was still stuck in my own head.

In the end, I just hoped this would be the beginning of a better friendship than the past ten years of radio silence.

Logan started to come around about once a week. It wasn't always lunch either. I figured since he had his business office down on the wharf, we were just a lunch spot but a month or so into this routine he came for dinner. He always came when I was working, and he always came alone. When he came for dinner, I couldn't just do the polite chat thing anymore and had to ask him the question I was holding in. I figured I would just say it, say Megan's name, and it would be out there. Then I would have to stop pretending that he was coming to see me.

"Dinner this time, Logan? Don't you need to be at home with your family?" I attempted to be casual, but I knew I sounded shrill and accusatory; it was the exact opposite of casual. Logan just gave me a funny look and a laugh.

"What family, Louise? I mean, I like my mom but seeing her quarterly is taxing. And my dad moved to California with his 'secretary,'" Logan air-quoted the last word. I forced out a strained laugh.

I sighed and just blurted it out. "No, your wife and daughter, Jackass." Being forced to say the word "wife" was too much for me so I called him a jackass. I instantly regretted it, as-I-was-saying-it kind of regret, but he laughed again.

"Louise, I'm divorced. And I don't have any kids... that I know about." He raised one eyebrow and gave a salacious look, as a joke. I stopped dead, nearly dropping his standard ice water in my hand. My face must have had my questions written all over it because he continued. "Megan has a daughter though, with her new husband. They got married a couple of years ago, really soon after she and I divorced. Escaped a bullet with that one, right?"

I didn't really understand everything he said except for that magic word- divorce, though I did hear the bitterness in his voice. I decided it didn't matter. He was single, and he was coming to eat at my restaurant and hang out with me. I could harbor my crush without guilt now.

"Oh, so you're not expecting anyone? No wife at home?" The shrillness was back but this time it was built on a base of hope instead of dread. He shook his head and rolled his eyes. "In that case..." I untied my apron and sat down in the booth across the table from him. "… mind if I keep you company? I think they'll manage without me." He was literally the only customer in there, so he chuckled.

"That would be nice. So, what would you recommend today?" The question, coming from anyone else anyway, would elicit a straight answer. From Logan, it just made me roll my eyes.

"Zeke, two cheeseburgers! And extra fries!"

"Right-o Lulu!" At that Logan's face lit up like Rockefeller center at Christmas.

"Lulu?" He asked with an evil smile. I resolved there and then to kill Zeke in his sleep.

"Ok, if you swear to never call me that again, I'll never call you Lolo again." Logan just slowly shook his head no.

"Oh no. Lolo doesn't bother me anymore. Or at least not nearly as much as I can see Lulu bothers you. This is my golden ticket. This is power. I'm a business man, Louise. I'm not about to let go of the upper hand here."

"Oh really?" I squeaked. I could feel my face burning and knew I was a bright shade of red. Why did my stupid sister marry that lummox? Why did he _insist_ on not letting that nickname go? He was like a dog with a bone! And now it looked like he had a disciple. "Are you sure about that Lolo?"

"Oh, yes, Lulu. I'm positive," he practically purred with satisfaction. He didn't even flinch when I said his long-hated grandmother-given nickname. But every time he said Lulu I grew a shade darker with embarrassment.

"Ugh, I already can't get my dumb brother-in-law to let that go. He usually remembers to keep that name private. Now my friends are using it. I guess I will have to move. Your dad and his 'secretary' have a guest room? I could learn to like California." I hid my face in my hands. But Logan latched on to a specific word in my rant.

"We're friends?" I looked up at his confused face and stared at him, with my mouth open for a few seconds until he broke down and laughed. He was teasing me. He knew we were becoming friends. I glared my eyes and kicked him under the table.

"Ow!"

"Oops." I deadpanned.

"Touche, mon ami." Zeke brought out our burgers on plates nearly overloaded with fries.

"Louie, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship." I toasted him with a fry. He looked around, confused.

"Who's Louie?" He was serious.

It took every ounce of strength in my body not to slap him.


	13. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

"Joe, we're doin' shots. Pass the Cuervo," Logan slapped a fifty-dollar bill on the bar and fast as a blink, the money disappeared, and two shots sat in its place. After about two months of weekly lunches _and_ weekly dinners, Logan asked me if I wanted to go visit his friend Joe. When he guided me next door, I laughed and said I was well acquainted with Joe.

"Oh, you know Joe, do you?" Logan raised an eyebrow. He got a kick out of teasing me about guys, but by now I knew how to turn it right back around on him.

"Not as well as you do, but yes, Joe gets me drunk. We're old pals." Logan didn't get as flustered with the innuendo of gay sex as other guys did but it was enough to make my point.

"Neither of you are my type anyway." Joe baldly stated and walked off, leaving us both momentarily speechless. We just looked at each other, and thus began our Friday drinking night. I never worked Saturday mornings unless someone was sick, so we usually closed the place down. Logan bought mostly, but I insisted to pay at least a quarter of the time.

Apparently, this evening, we were doing shots. "Anything special we're celebrating, or do you just want to get a jump start on cirrhosis?" I asked but that didn't stop me from toasting and downing my first shot. "Woo! That's tequila alright." I set my glass down and waited for Logan to reply.

"Oh, we're celebrating. I decided my new goal in life- we're getting you a man." Joe came back over and refilled our glasses. At that declaration, I needed another drink. I downed my second and tried once more.

"I must have misheard you. I get mine. You're the one who needs a lady-friend." The subject of dating was one of Logan's favorite things to prod me with. He knew I didn't date much, and never for longer than just a few dates. Once things progressed to the bedroom phase, I cut it off. He thought that was... I don't really know what he thought about it, really, but it seemed to amuse him to no end. I always retorted with his lack of romantic contact too. Then came his proscribed response-

"I got a few numbers I can call." I still wasn't sure if he meant friends-with-benefits or hookers. He never gave me the same answer twice when I asked him to clarify. "But this isn't about me." This was new to the conversation. Usually we dropped it after this, but he continued, "You are relationship kryptonite. You go on a few dates, you start to feel a connection, you let a guy in your pants, and then poof. You bolt. Or you kill them. I haven't figured out if you're chicken about feelings or some sort of black widow."

"Oh, you know they're dead. Don't even look in my closet." Joe poured a third and I downed it in as many seconds. This was getting to a place I didn't want to go. I had my feelings for Logan under control, which meant that I never thought about them or let them effect my life and dated only as much as I felt I needed to, to scratch the itch, as it were. I mean, I was only twenty-seven. I wasn't going to practice celibacy for a guy who had no idea what was going on in my brain.

"Have you tried internet dating?" That made me bark out a laugh.

"Yeah, I'm not so big on the idea of swiping left or whatever. How does it work? You're on Grindr, right?"

Logan just ignored that and took his shot he'd been neglecting. "Ok, fine. I give up. For now. As it is, I _am_ looking for a lady. Found someone I kinda like actually, but she's different from other girls I've been with and I could ask your advice."

My stomach flip-flopped but I squashed all vestige of emotion before it could do damage. "Different? So, this chick has not been lobotomized? She's never been named Miss Teen anything?" I started laughing, because let's face it, I'm hilarious. "She wears underwear?"

"Ha ha ha, Lulu." He dragged out the Name when he was getting pissed with me, so I knew it was time to stop. "She's incredible. She's not into money. She's not a bottle blonde. She can actually make a joke instead of just laughing at mine." His voice had a dreamy quality as he reminisced about his lady-love.

"Okay, okay, okay, she's a paragon. I get it. But the ultimate proof of her worth- has she seen Casablanca?" I prodded a sore spot because I knew made Logan cringe.

"I'm assuming yes. She's into old movies and stuff. So, since she's actually pretty cool, I don't think my usual 'flash the smile and some cash' approach will work. I mean, she knows already that I have money, but she doesn't seem impressed. What should I do?" His puppy dog eyes and genuine confusion would have melted harder hearts than mine.

"Well, you could start by talking to her like a person. Like you talk to me. Be a nice guy. No pick-up lines. No games. Just be a normal person talking to another person." I couldn't help keep the sarcasm out of my voice. It was like he never considered the obvious. Of course, as I thought over the gems he had dated in the past that I knew about, they weren't applying to Mensa anytime soon. He went for dim bimbos (dimbos?) who flocked to money like moths to flame. He was a dimbo magnet and I had told him so on many occasions. I guess this was a good thing and I should be a better friend. "Just... find out what she likes. What movies she watches, books she reads. Where she works. Talk to her about things she's into. She'll likely do most of the work if you can get her talking about stuff she likes. Then listen to her. You're not an idiot so don't date one."

He considered my words, took the shot Joe just poured us, and grabbed his wallet for another fifty. He slapped it down and stared down at his shoes.

"Okay, you're making sense. Be nice. Listen. Talk about her interests." He nodded, like he was making mental notes. "Alright! So, can I just ask her what she likes or is it creepy to check her Facebook?"

"Surface check only, no deep mining. And don't 'like' anything. That screams creeper, until you're friends. And then, again, only new stuff. Nothing over a week old." He absorbed my words as I absorbed the next two shots Joe poured. One was Logan's, but he was busy mulling and didn't notice. I needed to drown feelings in tequila.

"Can we change the subject now? Did you finally watch those movies I told you to look up?" We spent the next few hours discussing Mel Brooks and his cinematic perfection, then our favorite movies as kids, then music. Before we knew it, we were trying to convince Joe that he needed karaoke machine.

When my mother got wind of the karaoke machine idea there was no stopping her. She started visiting the bar every night and helping Joe's wine sales. It may have been a mistake to tell her about it, but it lead to one of the greatest changes in my life. Joe relented and got a machine, making Fridays karaoke night. Mom became a regular. Gene would actually pull himself away from his instruments and his band and come sing too. Even my dad would get in the spirit and sing, despite calling karaoke a "Pesto-type ploy." He was careful to never say anything around Joe, though, and he did order at least four glasses of wine before grabbing a mic.

Mom would sing Whitney Houston. Dad preferred the disco divas. Logan was the biggest surprise though, because I was quite literally always surprised. One night he sang "Benny and the Jets," by Elton John. The whole bar joined in, and since karaoke was getting popular, that was a large number of people. After such a popular and well-known song, I was expecting some Neil Diamond or Journey- more popular stuff- but he took a turn and sang Celine Dion. Another evening he took the mic twice and sang Elvis' "Hound Dog" and later Pink Floyd's "Comfortably Numb." There was never any pattern. I would sing, myself, but only once properly toasted and only Cyndi Lauper, just because it made my dad laugh.

"C'mon Lulu, sing something else. Sing with me!" Logan was silly drunk right then and there was no talking him out of this. I let him drag me onstage and when I saw the title of song I just asked, "really?"

It was "Sex and Candy", and he handed me the mic to start off. The room was almost full, as usual for eleven o-clock on a Friday. Mr. Fischoeder and Felix sat in a corner whispering loudly about their next duet. They liked to sing the most awkward songs possible, seemingly oblivious to the rooms' discomfort. Last song was "Afternoon Delight." So... yeah. When I started they quieted down a bit.

As I was crooning about platform double suede with Logan, who was surprisingly into this song, I checked the room for my mom and dad. There were the all the Pestos, Darryl and his wife, a bunch of people I only knew as barflies, and even Rudy and his dad. My parents weren't here tonight, so I resolved to do something a little daring during my next solo set. Here came the chorus again.

"I smell sex and can-day, here. Who's that lounging in...my...chair-" Logan started trying to get me dance with him. I was drunk enough to let my guard down and have some fun. But then as the song started to wind down he held me closer and I felt his whiskey breath on my shoulder. It sent chills up my spine and I froze. He didn't seem to notice and once the song was done and people were applauding, he grabbed my hand and started to bow. I felt the tug and snapped back, bowed and shuffled off the stage.

"Two Joe." Joe didn't have to ask two of what. When I ordered that way, I wanted tequila shots. Joe poured them out and Logan wandered over and laughed.

"Awe, no thanks Louise, I've still got half-" Logan started to protest the shot, but before he could finish I downed both. "Oh. Getting up some courage to sing again?" I just nodded and let the tequila settle on my stomach lump. I was nervous. Logan had still been asking about how to talk to his new crush chick and pushing me to date (he even created an online profile, BurgerGal) but I couldn't just do nothing anymore. I had to make some sort of overture. I was going to sing something very unlike me and I was going to make sure Logan knew it was for him. After I felt steady enough, I went back up and signed up for another song and wrote it down on the list. Joe's karaoke assistant Jerry looked askance at me, because it was so off, but said nothing. Jerry was the Joe of karaoke- no words, no judgment.

I had a while to wait so Logan and I watched an uncomfortable rendition of "The Boy is Mine" from the Fischoeder brothers. We did all we could not to laugh but every time we made eye contact we broke into giggles. Soon we had to just stare at our hands and drinks. After that, the whole bar let out a strained breath and waited while a biker I knew through Critter named Boilin' Oil (never questioned why) took the stage and belted out a surprisingly lovely version of "My Way" from Sinatra. Rousing applause shook the rafters. Oil blushed scarlet and went back to his table where is biker friends patted him on the back and handed him a beer.

Logan offered to buy me another shot, since he knew I always liked to pre-game my songs with one and I took him up on it. I was going to save it until the moment before I stepped on stage. Three more people were ahead of me. Gretchen sang an Amy Winehouse song, Darryl something Mariah Carey, and then some barfly lady sang the Beatles' "Eleanor Rigby."

It was my turn. I saw Jerry point at me, so I downed my shot and took the mic in my hand.

The song began with a simple piano intro. People recognized it pretty quickly and the looks of surprise on my friend's faces almost made me laugh, which was not in the tone of the song. I had to look down to compose myself.

As I sang the first words, the words that began the chorus, I made sure of where my eye contact landed. On Logan.

"You are my sweetest downfall.

I loved you first, I loved you first.

Beneath the sheets of paper lies my truth,

I have to go, I have to go.

Your hair was long when we first met..."

As I went through the song I would look around the room, but when the chorus came back around, I always made sure to find Logan's face in the crowd for the first two lines. I seemed to be doing well, despite my less-than-stellar voice, and the crowd wasn't talking or moving a lot or laughing or heckling, all things they would do when the singer was bad. The last two lines of the song were the first ones repeated, so as I heard it coming, I met Logan's eyes again. I couldn't read them, but I sang to him anyway.

"You are my sweetest downfall.

I loved you first."

The crowd applauded with gusto, especially my friends and the regulars who knew me and knew I never sang anything like that before. I smiled, waved, and handed Jerry the mic back. I didn't see or hear who came after me. I probably wouldn't have noticed even if Mick Jagger took the stage, naked and on fire. My eyes were glued on the face of my friend Logan, and he gazed right back at me. I sat next to him on our usual bar didn't say anything for long moments. Then at the same time we both took a deep breath and began.

"I-"

"You-"

But before we could finish our thoughts, Rudy came over to us and I could smell the beer coming from his pores. His trademark inhaler was in his hand and he puffed it twice before speaking to me. He was so loud that the singer about to start stopped. Jerry even turned off the machine as Rudy spoke, because the whole bar was riveted on what was happening. I just wanted to hide.

"Louise Belcher- finally, you have given me the courage to speak! I, Rudolph Steiblitz, have loved you since you gave me my first kiss when we were 9." I glanced over at Logan who smirked a little. Then I looked back at Rudy. He continued, undisturbed. "You are beautiful and crazy and nice, sometimes, and funny and I want to be your man. You make my heart beat and take my breath" (Puff Puff) "away. So, let me take away yours." Before I could stop it, he scooped me into his arms, dipped me off the barstool, and landed a very tongue-heavy and sloppy kiss on me. I could feel his arms shaking as he held me up. It was just awkward and uncomfortable for everyone but Rudy. He set me back upright, puffed up his chest, and told me he would be expecting my call. He strutted out of the bar, and everyone whistled and catcalled at me. The only person who didn't was Logan.

I turned to look at him with absolute consternation and embarrassment plastered on my face. He was smiling, really big actually, but he said nothing for a minute. When it was obvious I wasn't going to say anything first, he spoke while struggling to hold in his laughter.

"So... um... did you see fireworks?" I wiped my lips on my shirt sleeve repeatedly, as if I could erase the taste of Rudy from them.

"Absolutely not." The moment Logan and I had before was long gone and he was laughing out loud now. I scrambled outside to find Rudy before he left.

He was outside, hyperventilating and puffing his inhaler like it was life. Of course, for Rudy, it was life. I patted his back while he caught his breath again and he looked at me with stars in his eyes. I had to say something quickly before he kissed me again.

"Rudy, I don't know what made you do or say those things-" He held up a hand in my face to stop me.

"Your song Louise. I know you could barely make eye contact with me, but I felt your sincerity. Nobody could put that much feeling into a song like that and have it be fake. And the first time I ever come to karaoke night, you sing like that, for me?" My jaw hung open and I couldn't form words. 'This had been happening to me a lot', I thought wryly. "So, I took your epic act of bravery to make one of my own, Louise. I love you!" He started to move towards me with open arms, but I help up my hands to block him this time. No more smooches for Regular-size Rudy.

"Rudy, I wasn't singing to you."

"You- what?" Rudy seemed poleaxed.

"I wasn't singing to you. I'm sorry. You're my friend and I was happy to be your first kiss since you deserved a good one but that's all it was- a friend kiss. I am not in love with you." I felt like garbage for making his face look so sad.

"But that song- it had so much feeling." Rudy protested, assuming I was being maidenly modest or something. I shook my head. He had to understand, so I let go a little secret.

"Okay, well thank you. Maybe I was trying to send someone a message in there, but it wasn't you. I'm not in love with you. We'll always be friends, but I don't feel like that for you." I patted his shoulder and walked away. He took a puff of inhaler and walked away, dejected and rejected. I slipped back into the bar, feeling like shit and hating everything. Once inside I couldn't meet Mr. Steiblitz's gaze. I just worked my way over to my barstool and avoided all the people I knew were staring at me.

"So, when's the wedding?" Logan smirked to himself as he sipped his whiskey sour. He wasn't looking at me but stared across the bar at the bottles lined up like liquor soldiers in a booze army. I sat on the stool and crumpled over onto the bar, crossed my arms and hid my face in them.

"I hate you." My voice was muffled but audible. Logan laughed, his golden voice genuinely amused.

"You love me. Shut up, Lulu." He drained his glass and set it down. "So, you didn't run after him to confess your love? You sang a love song, after all."

"I. Hate. You." He was having too much fun at my expense. At Rudy's expense. "Leave Rudy alone. He misunderstood me. I was trying to branch out from Cyndi and he got all caught up in his feelings. Don't make fun!" I was surprised at how strongly I stood up for Rudy.

"You love me. But okay, I'll leave the guy alone. That was one impressive kiss though." I just raised my head and glared at him. "Aww... you love me!" Logan always insisted that I wasn't angry with him by saying I loved him. Ordinarily I rolled my eyes but tonight... I don't know if it was the song, or the dancing, or the tequila, or Rudy, but tonight I wasn't about to fight him.

I sighed and quietly agreed. "You're right. I love you." He slapped me on the back and laughed.

"Thatta girl. Just give in to the Logan." He knows how annoying I found it when he spoke in third person. I just ordered another drink and gave up.


	14. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

"Who the hell is Mr. WonderWharf?" Logan was looking over my shoulder to read my text messages. I had just been walking down the street and had stopped to answer another text message from a guy who responded to my BurgerGal profile. I sat on the steps, where Logan and I first met. His face suddenly popped over my shoulder and made me want to hit him on the nose for his prying.

"A guy who persistently messages me from that ridiculous online dating site you created in MY name. But," I conceded to Logan, "he's somewhat charming."

"You sure are writing him back a lot for someone who says she doesn't want to online date." Logan sat next to me and pulled me into a headlock. I stabbed him in the ribs with my elbow and he let go.

"Well, since you're so obsessed with your new girl, I had to make do and settle for Mr. WonderWharf." I tried to make my joke lighthearted but immediately regretted saying something so close to the truth. "What do you think his name means? Does he live there?" I tried to change the subject.

"Trust me, the only people who live down on the wharf are not guys you want to be dating."

"Hey, I'm open minded." I protested his over-protectiveness.

"Hobos?" He retorted. I laughed.

"Are they hot?" That made him laugh. "Well then what else could it mean? Does he work there? Just love it there? Oh! Could it be Mr. Fischoeder?! I wanted to marry him for his money when I was a kid!" I looked to Logan for a minute, just to see the look on his face.

"If he works there, he's either a boring suit or a carnie. Neither of which is really Louise-worthy. If he just loves it, then he needs a new hobby. And as far as I know, Mr. Fischoeder is nearly in his eighties." Logan explained.

"Even better. He'll be gone soon. More money for me. Although this guy tried to describe himself as a younger and more handsome Brad Pitt." Logan began to chuckle, then full out laugh at that.

"So probably not Fischoeder. Why are you talking to this whack-a-doo anyway?"

"Why did you sign me up for online dating but get all pissy when I talk to someone on here?" I glared at Logan for being so nosy, for sitting so close, for not being in love with me. I shook my head to clear it of thinking, or of feeling, or whatever and stood up.

Logan gave me a hurt look. "Sor-ry Lulu. Didn't mean to be so critical of your one true love. I'll leave you alone." And then with that, he walked away. I watched him go, unable to say anything.

I just went back to work that day and focused on food. Focused on serving and customers and prep and anything that was distracting. It kinda worked, for a while anyway. But then I heard my phone chirp: a message from Mr. WonderWharf.

You've been quiet BG. He shortened my name, BurgerGal, to BG. I called him Mr. W.

Sorry, Mr. W, been working. Trying to fight off a bad mood. Know any good jokes to cheer me up?

I've got a cheesy one.

Hit me.

Why couldn't you hear the Pterodactyl in the bathroom?

I don't know, why?

Because the P is silent!

Wow... that was so bad.

But you smiled, didn't you, BG?

Yeah, I guess so. Thanks

So why are you in a bad mood?

I hesitated to answer but decided to be honest. Got into it with a friend. I was bitchy, and I feel guilty about it. Too proud to just call and apologize. I'm a real winner, huh? I expected silence. I expected him to run for the hills.

*Chirp* I was shocked. He replied.

I'm sure it's worse in your head. Your friend probably wants to make amends too. Don't be too proud. Just say you're sorry. If they are your friend, they care about you. I was impressed with such sensible and kind advice.

Thank you, Mr. W.

Later that evening, I was just about to give up on Logan coming for dinner and bar karaoke when in he strolled.

"Logan I'm sorry-"

"Louise, let me say sorry-"

We stepped on each other's words trying to be the first to apologize. We stopped and smiled and just shook our heads. I took a couple of steps to him and he scooped me into a Logan bearhug, his signature hug. He squeezed me so hard I squeaked and felt my ribs crack. "Air please"

He let me down with a laugh. "I'm sorry I teased you. I know how you are and I'm so sorry for everything." He looked down at me with worry in his face. Mr. W was right. Logan cared about me. Maybe it wasn't what I wanted, but it was nice.

"I'm sorry I was a bitch. I shouldn't have bitten your head off." I felt all my disappointment about him being "just" my friend settle. He was a good friend, my best friend, and that was enough for me. I would let it be enough. "I'm happy you met your mystery crush girl. And I have Mr. WonderWharf. He gave me some good advice today and told me a stupid joke. He's a nice guy. Thanks for making me do this, Logan." I felt really awkward but thankfully, as usual, Logan knew just what to say.

"Just get me a burger, Lulu." I sighed, smiled and took Zeke the order.

"LULU!" About an hour later, after Logan had finished his burger, two orders of fries and was now nursing a milkshake as if the man didn't have to worry about cholesterol and fat, Zeke cried out from the kitchen.

"What? What's wrong Zeke?" He poked his face through the order window and gave me the most frantic look I've ever seen him wear, excepting the day Seb was born.

"I need stuff!"

"Can we be more specific, you lummox? What stuff do you need?" I stood there, impatiently tapping my pencil on my notepad, ready to write it all down if only Zeke could get to it.

"Bok choy, saffron, achiote paste, black garlic, scorpion peppers, daikon, laver, patty pan, and three types of cheese- Comte, Roomkaas, and Gorgonzola," Zeke rattled off enough expensive ingredients to empty the register. I was going to have to use the company card.

"Gorgonzola? Are we going to burn the place down afterwards?" Zeke just sighed. He knew how I felt about stinky cheeses, but, like my father, he had an affection for them. "Well I can get most of this stuff tonight. I'll have to get up early and go to the vegetable market in the morning to get the peppers, the daikon, and the patty pan. Call Tina and tell her to come watch the front. If you want me to get this stuff tonight, I have to hurry before the fancy store closes." I checked my watch. It was eight thirty. Fig jam was going to close at nine. I had to get going if I was going to make it.

"See ya later, Logan," I said as I rushed out the door. I started down the street, barely even noticing that I still wore my apron, when I suddenly felt a hand on my arm. I turned to see Logan.

"Let me drive you. It'll be faster." I nodded and let him lead me to his car across the street.

I had been surprised to learn that Logan no longer drove his precious sportster coupe and he had made the concession towards sensibility. Of course, he had the sensible four door sedan equipped with a sound system more suited to a personal theatre than a car. When he unlocked the door and let me in, then got in a turned on the engine, the music blared in my ears. He turned it off and said, "Sorry."

I was more amused at his choice of jam than the volume. The voice coming from the speakers was the buttery tones of Barbra Streisand, singing the soundtrack from Yentl, if I wasn't mistaken. I sang the next line of the song, "Papa are you kissing me, goodnight?" Logans ears turned bright pink and my day was made. "Really, Logan? A soundtrack? Yentl?!" I was incredulous.

"My mom used to listen to her in the car. Sometimes I like to walk down memory lane. You will do me the courtesy of forgetting this moment ever happened, Louise Beatrice." I simply nodded my head since I was unable to speak for holding in laughter.

By this point we were already at Fig Jam, with twenty-five minutes to shop before they closed.

"So, what are we getting? I didn't understand half of what Zeke said." Logan asked as he opened the store's front door for me.

"That's because he was in chef-mode. When he's in the throes of culinary creativity, he asks for the wildest stuff. I learned a long time ago what he was talking about but it took a while. My dad is the same way; they get all wrapped up in experimenting, forgetting that nobody in this town has tastes like they do." I strolled the aisles of Fig Jam, ignoring the glaring eyes of Ray. "So, laver...laver... here's the laver."

"Looks like seaweed," Logan said as I put the package in my hand-basket.

"Ding-ding. Winner! It is." I sighed and looked for the next item. Fig Jam had a lot of preserved and dried ingredients and things like cheeses and cured meats, but not much in the way of fresh produce. The black garlic, the saffron, the cheeses, those were all here. I grimaced as I picked up the cheeses Zeke wanted.

"Gorgonzola? Really? You'll never get the restaurant smelling right again." I smiled up at Logan and he smiled back as I placed the basket of ridiculously overpriced and rare ingredients on the counter. Ray must have assumed something because as he was scowling at me, never having forgiven the black garlic incident, and scanning the items before placing them in the bag, he looked to Logan and back to me.

"Stop being so cute like that. Or at least take it out of my store before you throw down and tear each other's clothes off, sheesh." I glared at Ray and had just opened my mouth to give a scathing retort when Logan beat me to it.

"You mean you don't want us to jump up on this counter and have sex right here, in front of the German candy?" Logan swept the now-empty basket to the floor with one swift movement of his arm and placed both hands flat on the counter. "If I want to lift her up here, and have her wrap her legs around me, so I can get a better look into her eyes as I tear off her apron and start kissing her chest-"

"Logan! Knock it off!" I handed Ray the business's credit card and he rang it up, listening to Logan rant the whole time. I wanted to laugh at the ridiculous things Logan was saying, but it would have spoiled his fun. Ray looked appalled and if I laughed he would have realized it was all a joke and Logan would never forgive me.

"No, Louise, if we want to make passionate love right here in the middle of this store, we are going to! If I want to take my pants off and fling them over this register because I must have you now, I will! If you wanted to get down on your knees-"

"And now we're leaving!" I stopped him before he truly said something that would get us arrested. Grabbing the bag and gripping his wrist in the same motion, I started towards the door. As I pulled him out of the store, he stopped right on the welcome mat and cried out.

"No! This man needs to be taught a lesson! When you love a woman, you can't be expected to keep it in your pants until you leave a public place! If you must have her, then you take her, right there, in the store! If you are in love like we are, my darling, then this" and at that word he dipped me into a black-and-white movie-worthy kiss, passionate and tender, and long enough to make me dizzy because I was so stunned I forgot to was the kiss I had dreamed about since I realized my feelings; it was the kiss that was everything Rudy's wasn't. "Well, that just couldn't wait!" And then, he let us leave the store.

Once we got back in his car, the laughter commenced. "Did you see his face?" Logan wheezed out between guffaws. I laughed too, making myself feel lightheaded from laughing so hard. Or was I lightheaded from the kiss? I didn't know and really didn't want to analyze it, so I kept on laughing. Laughing was a safe response. We laughed and joked about it all the way back to the restaurant. I laughed so that I wouldn't cry.

We went back in and handed Zeke his ingredients. "Zeke, you get to close alone. I need a drink." I hung up my apron, grabbed Logan by the shirt front, and led him out the door. "Tequila?"


	15. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

The Fig Jam kiss haunted me for a week. I didn't say anything about it to Logan, to Tina, to my parents, to anyone. I was too confused about what it meant, if anything. To Logan, it was clearly a joke. He hadn't mentioned it at all, but the cavalier way he brushed the whole thing off that night, and the way he hadn't made a move on me since, was clear as day. But for me, well I thought about it pretty much every minute of every day. I considered asking Mr. WonderWharf about it but figured since he was actually interested in me, maybe it would be best if I didn't talk about my confusing sexual attraction to my best friend, another guy. Instead I just dreamed about it, daydreamed about it, and let myself be driven to distraction because it consumed my thoughts. It wasn't until I spilled coffee on the counter as I over-filled Mort's mug that I realized how unfocused I really was.

"Oh damn! Sorry, Mort." I cleaned up the spill and stopped letting myself get so wrapped up in my own head. It worked pretty well, until that evening when Logan dropped by for dinner before karaoke night, as he usually did. When I saw him, my stomach did a somersault. I felt excited and nauseated at the same time. I knew this feeling. I only ever felt this way about one other guy before. Fortunately for me, he was unattainable so that crush was able to die a silent death like it deserved. Logan... Logan was right there. Logan was waving me over to his table to chat. Logan was my best friend. We drank together, we sang bad karaoke together, we laughed together.

'Dammit feelings, shut up!' I told myself. All those thoughts and feelings and wishes, I balled up and stuffed into a mental hole, covered the hole with a very fat man, and then gave that mental fat man orders to never move. Ever.

Then Logan smiled at me. Fat man gone. Feelings everywhere.

After karaoke, after switching from Cyndi Lauper to Blondie, and after the place had cleared out, Logan and I were sitting at the bar, I decided it was now or never. I was going to say something, for real. No songs, no subtle attempts. Just honesty.

The four tequila shots and the four beers were also a huge factor in this decision.

"Logan, can I talk to you about something?" I started. He looked up from his phone and gazed straight through me, as if he had forgotten that I was there this whole time.

"Louise! I'm doing it!" He slurred to me, eyes slightly unfocused and his lopsided grin foolishly smeared on his face.

"Doing what, Logan?" I was more interested in where this was going than I was in embarrassing myself. Or maybe I was chicken. Or maybe both. "Getting that pony you always dreamed of?"

"No!" He laughed and swayed on his barstool. "I'm going to get her!"

"Her who?" My stomach dropped into my shoes, but I let it fall and pretended everything was fine.

"The girl, Louise. My girl. My perfect dream girl. After all this time I've spent wooing her and romanshing...romansering..." His drunk tongue was tied into knots.

"Romancing?" I suggested.

"YES! THAT!" His face light up with his million-dollar smile. He grabbed my shoulders, perhaps to emphasize his point, perhaps to steady himself, and practically shouted in my face, despite being only about a foot away because he was leaning off stool, "She's the one, Louise. I've known if from the first time I saw her. And tonight, I'm gonna finally ask her out." He started furiously texting his "one true love."

I watched him try to formulate the perfect proposition for a date and couldn't help but chuckle to myself a little. I also decided that I was done trying, Fig Jam kiss be damned. He was happy, and I was going to let it be. I was going to swallow my feelings and just stop hoping Logan would see me as anything other than L.B.B. When someone knew you as a little kid, I figured that's how they would always see you. To him, I was a drinking buddy, the food bringer, the little kid he saved from the fire. And that's all I would be, ever. I would have to be alright with that.

*Chirp* That was Mr. WonderWharf's text sound. I was too bleary eyed to try and talk to him tonight, but I could do one thing for my friend.

"Logan, why don't you save that message? Wait until tomorrow morning. When you're sober." I reached for Logan's phone, but he pulled it out of my reach. I was too tired to fight but I did give him "Aunt Weezy" meanie eyes that worked so well with Sebastian.

He sighed and slipped his phone into his back pocket. "You're right. It can wait." He snaked his arm around my shoulder and hugged me. "Thanks for looking out for me, buddy." That epithet was the last nail in the coffin of my hope for a romance. I let it hammer down and just smiled and shrugged off his arm.

"Lay off, you oaf. Go home." On karaoke nights, Logan always walked. Joe met my eye and called Logan a cab. I walked him outside and sat him on the curb. As the cab pulled up the street, I left him there, figuring he could get in the car and home without supervision, and went back inside for one last drink and to close out the tab.

"Thanks Joe, " I said as I pulled the money out of my wallet. "Good night, as always,"

Joe just grunted, as always. And then I want back home alone, as always.

Hey BG. You know, this little digital flirt of ours has been going on a while now. Why don't we meet face to face and see if we can talk in person? Mr. WonderWharf's message hung in the air between us. I couldn't answer it, not yet. Not until I got my emotions under control.

Logan messaged that he would be in for lunch that day. I figured that if I could get through the meal and not want to punch myself in the gut, I could answer Mr. W. He should be there any minute. I left my phone on the counter and took a moment to go to the bathroom. When I came back-

"LOGAN BARRY BUSH! DROP THAT CELL PHONE!" Logan was busy typing on my phone and I could only imagine the mess he made, the disaster I would have to deal with. I rushed over to him and snatched my phone from his hands.

"Hey, did you even wash your hands?" Logan tried to joke with me. I smacked the back of his skull, and at the same time, I looked to see what he had typed.

I would love that, Mr. W. How about tonight, by the entrance to Wonder Wharf? And the worst part? *Sent*

"You're dead. I will kill you, grind you up, and serve you to customers, Logan." I stared at him with my jaw clenched and knuckles white.

"Hey- you need some excitement in your life and Mr. WonderWharf makes you smile. I was only doing what you would have done anyway! Now we both have dates tonight!" I was taken aback while I unraveled what that meant.

"Your soul mate said yes?"

"As of a little while ago, yes. I'm meeting her tonight. Tonight, we are going on our first date!" Logan was practically floating, so I just let it go. I looked back at my phone, at the message he sent. I guess I was going on a date.

Thirty minutes later saw me in the arms of my mother and sister. Logan had called Mom and dragged me upstairs and handed me off to them for a first date makeover. I vowed to murder him later. Mom tried at least four different hairstyles before I tore the brush from her hands and pinned it into a bun. Tina had gathered every article of clothing both she and I owned and lay them all out on my bed and the floor and basically every surface in my room. In the end she put me in a creamy pink sweater and one of her silk skirts. Mom forced me to sit and let her slather make-up on my face. Tina kept rubbing my legs and asking if I was _sure_ I didn't want to shave my legs again, even though I had shaved the day before, so I finally gave in and just did it to shut her up.

Eventually they released me from their clutches and I walked down the road to the Wonder Wharf. I was trying to convince myself to not give up my small shred of hope that this wouldn't be a disaster when I saw something that made my heart stop.

Logan, wearing my ears.

"What are you doing here, Logan?" I managed to stammer out. "I thought you had a date with your dream girl."

"I'm here. With her- with you." I didn't know what to say to that, so I just stood there, looking at him. "Louise, I've been crazy about you since we were stupid kids. That fight we had here, when I said all those awful things to you... I never forgave myself. I tried to move on, I got married for Christ sake! But I was never happy. And then I saw you, I saw you in New York, standing with that statue of the little girl. You were standing next to her, side by side, you against the world, and I knew then- my marriage was over." My jaw dropped open like a fish. He saw me in New York? He smiled and lifted my chin back up with his hand, gentle but strong. "Yeah, I knew that if I was so happy just _looking_ at you for a brief moment, happier than I had ever been in my relationship with Megan, then it was useless to try to make it work with her.

" But I figured you hated me. Then that night you got arrested showed me that maybe I was wrong. Maybe, if I could still inspire such a fire in you that you beat up public property because you were so angry, well... maybe there was hope. I started to think that maybe I stood a chance, if I planned and was careful.

"Then when you needed to renew the lease, I took my shot. I figured if I could become your friend, maybe I could get close enough to try to win you. It was so hard to just sit back and watch you date those losers. That's why I made your BurgerGal account. I made Mr. WonderWharf that same day.

"And then, you sang to me-" I blushed deeply, harder than I had been before.

"That night, with Rudy..."

"Yeah, I was going to say something then, but I saw how well you reacted to a big public declaration. So, I went back to Plan A. To Mr. WonderWharf. And then you never answered my damn message!" He threw up his hands in mock anger. "So today, I made the choice for you. I couldn't keep it to myself anymore. I want to be with you Louise Beatrice Belcher. I'm crazy about you- I think I'm even in love with you-"

"I love you too, Logan Barry Bush." I replied before he could say anything else. Everything I had ever dreamed about when I thought about romance was right here. My best friend, someone who knew me, someone who understood me. Suddenly everything was perfect, and no more words were necessary.

I threw my arms around his neck and planted my lips on his. It wasn't our first kiss, but it was my favorite.


End file.
